


Secretions of Philathymna

by KendraLynora



Category: Bering and Wells - Fandom, Original Work, Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Warehouse 13, Bering and Wells, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLynora/pseuds/KendraLynora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two women's lives are intertwined, one a slave, fighting for her freedom in the arena. The other, the mistress of the sponsor house where she is training at. Both are of different class and stand strong in their values taught to them as children. But when an unsuspecting attraction strikes between them, ideals are compromised as well as a political shift in which they become the centre of. (This is technically an original, (going to be) novel length, story based off of Myka and HG (which can also be found on FictionPress). However, it can also be read as an alternative universe Bering and Wells fan-fiction.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caput Primum

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mature subject matter such as; coarse language, violence, and sexuality. Reader discretion is advised.

Deep within the centre of the great capital city of Philathymna, where the wealthy senate members reside, sat a beautiful, two-storey house; with a creamed coloured façade. Most of its walls, on the second floor, were no more than silk, airy-sheets that swept up and danced in the salty ocean breeze when it blew through the open home.

There, on that top floor, sat a writing desk. It faced the centre of the room, but if one turned their head to the side, their eyes would fall onto the beautiful sight of the city, with horizon ending at the deep-jade ocean.

Myrina, second born, only daughter of Marcus III, sat hunched at her desk; writing quill strangled between pursed lips. The fourteen-year-old girl squint her piercing emerald eyes at one of their city's financial statements. She tucked an unruly golden-brown curl behind her ear, before jotting down a figure on a scrap piece of paper.

"Oh, I know that face," Her older brother of three years, Marcus IV, pointed at his sister from the lounging sofa that sat a little ways away. He was sprawled out, legs crossed, in his toga that was paled so yellow that their mother strictly forbade him to leave the house in it.

Myrina's head jerked up; long curls bounced around her lightly freckled face as she scrunched her nose. "I do not have a face," she huffed at him.

"Okay, you don't have a face." He sat up in his seat before hollering, "My sister doesn't have a face! By the gods, why have you been so cruel to us; burdening our family with such a horrid creature that I must call my own flesh and blood?" He then slumped his head down in his arms, "Oh the tragedy; our only option being, is to sell her to the gypsies as one of their exhibits in their freak shows."

Myrina giggled towards him. He was quite the dramatic one, who never failed to put a smile on her face.

"Bloody Neveious, almighty," Their mother, Sera, walked in through the balcony doors, where just outside, lay their garden, "We don't holler upon the gods in that manner, in this family," she shot Marcus a sharp glare. "Amara, help me," she muttered to herself and the goddess of family, before making her way towards her eldest to sit down. Myrina and Marcus shared a look before biting their lips; stifling their laughter at the hypocrisy of their mother's words.

Sera gestured to Marcus to put his feet down, where he complied and made room for her to leisure with him. After the woman made herself comfortable in her seat, she looked to her daughter at the desk. "Oh no," one of her arms flew to her hip, "is your father making you look over financial reports again?"

"Yes," she answered uncaringly whilst she looked back down to them, "I found something, yet again," she announced before making a quick calculation, then writing down its sum. Myrina had a meticulous eye and a gift for numbers, which made her brilliant at catching errors in monetary reports.

"Oh Amōs, I hate that your father makes you do this."

"Mum, He doesn't make me do anything, I want to help," Myrina defended her father.

"Yes, sweetie, but this is highly illegal, not to mention, dangerous. You could get into big trouble if anyone discoveries that you're finding all these dirty-politician's embezzlement."

Both her children glared at her for a few seconds before Marcus broke the silence, "This is highly illegal?" he repeated stoically with a cocked eyebrow.

"And, not to mention, dangerous?" Myrina continued in a similar manner.

Sera looked back-and-forth between the two, "yes…?"

"Mum, Father is the rebel who is fighting to free all the slaves," Marcus spat, "don't you think that'll be the thing to kill us all?"

"Rebel? Kill?" Their mother gasped, "I don't want you two speaking so ill. Your father is not a rebel; he is simply one of the only senate members who are standing up for all the peoples in the empire.

"How is that not a rebel?" Marcus tilted his head.

Myrina laughed where their mother grabbed a pillow and swatted her son in the chest, "Oh, you two, along with your father, are going to be the death of me."

"We love you too, Mum," Marcus plastered a grin on his face.

The woman shifted in her seat and sighed; rolling her eyes towards her cheeky offspring. "You know, I really don't understand why your father can't just simply direct his efforts into getting that Magister-Reparo Bill passed, instead of trying to free all the slaves."

Myrina looked to her mother with annoyance, "Mum, Magister and Reparo are not one, but two separate bills. One is to allow a slave master the right to free them, if they so wish."

"That would be, Magister," Marcus added.

Myrina continued, "And the other is allowing a slave the right to buy their own freedom."

"And that would be, Reparo," he finished.

"See, those both sound reasonable. The senate should have no quarrel signing those," Sera said with passion; really just wanting her family to stop fighting this uphill battle of equality within the empire.

"But the problem is; they won't," Marcus began to shed light on the situation for their mother's benefit. "If they allow slaves to be freed by other means, they decrease their pool of potential Licentia Pugna fighters."

"Yes," Myrina contributed, "And If you take away the need to fight in the arena, which is to the death, I may add; and offer up a better alternative-"

"Chances are, slaves are going to be freed by their masters, since they require their master's permission to fight in Licentia Pugna, nevertheless," Marcus interrupted, "And everyone knows, the Sponsor Houses—"

"Whom are all upper class aristocrats," Myrina added.

"Yes," Marcus agreed, "The Houses are the ones that financially benefit, far more than the slave and his master."

"That's not even touching on the fact that it's a bigger gamble for the slave owner." Myrina took over again, "Yes, a Sponsor House trains and provides both lodging and food for the slave and master. But they don't pay anything for them initially. So if the slave dies in Pugna, yes the House is out their fighter and will not receive their share of the hansom Laureola purse, but the master is out both their slave and their diminutive, in comparison, financial winnings from the final battle."

"And!" Marcus thrust his finger, wanting to interject.

"No, I'm not finished yet," a heated Myrina shut him down before he could continue, "And if either of the bills are passed, women and children slaves may be freed as well, because they don't fight in Licentia Pugna so they have never had the opportunity to—"

"Gain their freedom," A middle-aged man said, in his naturally deep voice whilst he entered into the common room, adorned in his senate robes, with three centurions, dressed in imperial royal-blue armour, following up behind him. He had an average build and short cut hair that was white as the ivory floor in the palace's throne room.

"Vasilis," Sera stood up to greet him. She seemed a little uncomfortable by his presence but still wore a friendly smile, "What brings you to our humble abode?" Myrina then inconspicuously covered the books and scrolls in front of her; hiding what she was previously doing whilst keeping a close eye on their new guests.

The Senator turned to his accompanying soldiers and ordered, "Search the house."

With those words both Myrina and Marcus sprung to their feet. "What is the meaning of this, Vasilis?" Marcus demanded.

"Oh, dear boy, I'm afraid your father has gone too far this time," He spoke calmly.

"What do you mean?" Sera asked, with panic in her voice.

"Well, Sera," the man pulled out a scroll from underneath his arm whilst elaborating, "Your husband and his toxic ideals, have finally made him mad in actions. Just this eve he requested a private audience with The Imperium at his home."

"Yes, he went to convince him to use his influence, in order for the rest of the senate to show some compassion towards the slaves." Marcus said rather heatedly, "you know this. You were to accompany my father to talk with him. He wanted you to use your blood relations to him as a way of gaining his trust."

"My boy, you and your father are absolutely right. A brother's bond runs thick to the core," Vasilis then began to unroll the script in hand, "See, your father wants to curse our majestic city with chaos; allowing the diseased, the uneducated, the foreigners, the retards of cunt mothers who lacked the testicles to have kill them as infants, and just plain fucking women themselves, full citizen rights!"

"They should have them!" Marcus spouted.

"Senator, he's not here," one of the three centurions, dressed in a captain's uniform, said as they walked back into the room.

"Vasilis, what's going on?" Sera pleaded for an answer.

"Your husband stabbed and murdered my brother, The Imperium, this very eve," he stated with only a hint of detectable anger in his tone.

"He would never!" Myrina found her voice after his accusation, and shouted.

"Hold your tongue, girl" Vasilis snapped at her; sending a chill down her spine.

"Don't talk to my sister in that manner!" Marcus side stepped to block Vasilis's view of her.

"You would be advised to hold your tongue, too," he said.

"I will do no such thing!" her brother snapped, "You come into my father's house, accuse him of murder, search the premises for him, and now you disrespect my sister."

Vasilis disregarded his words. "Apprehend them," he ordered the soldiers.

"What?" Marcus shouted before he tried to reach for his sword that lay on a table a mere stride away, but the centurion captain grabbed him from behind. Another went to Myrina's side, but did not lay a hand on her; he simply watched her closely. The third soldier stood by their mother and took her by the arm.

Vasilis then began to read the scroll, "Marcus IV, son of Marcus III, Myrina, daughter of Marcus III,—"

"What? What is this? What are you doing?—" Their mother panicked.

"—And Sera, wife of Marcus III. In the name of the Imperial Crown, effective immediately,"—

Marcus struggled with the soldier on his back, "—Are you reading us our Citizen Sequesters?—"

"—From this day forward, your imperial citizen rights are stripped from you.—"

"Bloody Neveious, you are—," Sera muttered in shock.

"—You are now the property of the state and fall under Slavery Law. On grounds of the treasonous acts committed by Marcus III.—"

"Vasilis, you can't do this! —" Marcus fought the centurion harder, but the one that was with his mother; came to assist; the duo held him secure.

"—His rebellious deeds have, indisputably, poisoned you, his family, as well; in turn, making you traitors of The Empire." Myrina stood frozen in place; dumbfounded and scared.

"Let me go, you fucking ugly-ass minotaurs!" her brother bodily threw himself towards the floor; breaking free from the captain's hold. Quickly, he elbowed him in the face; knocking him down before swiftly whipping his body about the second; using his imprisoned arm as a slingshot. He then took his free hand and grabbed the soldier's chin from around his head; promptly snapped his neck with tremendous force. The dead centurion slumped to the floor.

With great swiftness, Marcus kicked the soldier leader, who was in the process of rising to his feet, in the head; knocking him back down before Marcus lunged for his sword.

Myrina's gaze ripped off her brothers when she saw Vasilis draw his sword and grab their mother; pushing the blade against her stomach. "Marcus, stop!" She yelled at her brother before he had the chance to unsheathe his own weapon.

The young man froze when his eyes fell to the weapon held at their mother's torso. Sera had pure fright in her eyes as the senator's blade twisted against her stola. "Let her go!" Marcus demanded.

"Boy, you don't get it. You can't tell me, or anyone else, what to do, you're a slave now. A slave that just killed a soldier of the Royal Empire." Myrina caught pure loathing in the Captain's eyes as he got back up on his feet; burning holes in Marcus with his death-glare. "That offense is punishable by death."

Tears ran down Sera's face as she murmured, "please don't, he's just a boy. He's my boy."

"Aww," Vasilis said condescendingly; stroking one of Sera's ash-blonde curls, "I can show some compassion towards a mother's son. I mean, a pound of flesh is a pound of flesh, it matters not from which slave it comes from." With those words he trust is blade through their mother's belly.

"No!" Both children screamed. The woman soon slipped off the blade and limply fell to the ground; eyes glassed over. Myrina lost sight of her when she slumped down on the other side of the sofa; but she could hear soft gargling sounds as she choked on her own blood. Tears streamed down Myrina's face.

"Mum!" Marcus squatted next to her, Myrina only assumed that he had cupped her face and kissed her head, but the furniture was in her line of sight. She then caught a nod from Vasilis to the soldier next to her. The centurion took her firmly by the arm and rested his free hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword; readying to draw it on command. Myrina tensed under his grasp, as sobs wracked her body.

Time seemed to stop as Marcus rose to his feet; eyes filled with pure fury fixed on Vasilis. "Your sister," Is all the older man said which promptly stilled her brother. Myrina didn't understand what he meant by the statement until she felt the centurion's sword against her neck.

Marcus looked to her then back to the senator, "I yield," he spoke rather strongly which surprised her.

"That's a smart boy," Vasilis smirked slyly. He then directed his attention towards the centurion next to Marcus with unadulterated anger in his, impishly gruff and bloodied, features. "Captain, for compensation of your fallen soldier," he gestured towards the man with the snapped neck on the ground, "you may have proprietorship of these two slaves. Do with them what you wish."

"Your generosity is ever boundless, Senator," The man bowed his head whilst Vasilis sheathed his stained crimson sword and picked up the scroll that he had discarded on the sofa, before walking out unescorted.

The captain turned to Marcus; expression morphing more malevolent, "That young man whose neck you just snapped; that was my nephew," he drew his sword and poked the tip under Marcus's chin. "Just like I had to watch him die in front of my own eyes; you now get to watch me fuck your sister." Myrina's breath fell short. She swallowed, but her mouth grew dry. Her heart raced in her chest as the implications of what the captain said had hit her. "And if you move one minute muscle in your body as I pleasure myself in her supple cunt; I'll slit her throat."

The captain sheathed his blade and eyed him as he began to walk towards Myrina. "Wait," Marcus said before whipping off his toga with great speed. "I killed your nephew. You want to truly humiliate me? Then fuck me, not my beautiful sister that will triple in price on the market, if she still has her virginity in tacked."

The man seemed to have liked the notion that the youth presented for that he turned around and pushed Marcus to lean over the sofa cushions; grabbing the lounger's back. "Spread them," the captain barked where Marcus complied and separated his legs for him. Myrina's body shook as she wept; her sight blurry through tears; unfortunately, not blurry enough. She still managed to make out the Captain's erect penis, poking out from his toga, forcefully penetrate into her brother; along with the expression of agony on Marcus's face as the older man threw all his weight into each thrust; bending the lounger sofa beneath them.

"Myrina," Marcus spoke; pain easily detected in his voice, "look at my face, only my face." She blinked away some of the tears, afraid to lift her hand to wipe them, with the soldier's blade still at her neck. "Focus on my eyes, alright," he forced a smile that only lasted a brief second before the captain plunged inside of him again. She forced herself to look into his hazel eyes; trying to block everything else out, like he wanted her to do. "Myrina, everything is going to be alright," he nodded. "Father will find you. He will rescue you, promise." Myrina's body continued to shake as she swallowed hard and nodded. "Be strong for me," he added through clenched teeth, "Yes, everything is going to be fine." His head nodded; mirroring her, "just fine… yes…just fine." She could tell that he was repeating it for his own sake now; trying to convince himself that they'd both be okay.

The captain must have finished, because the next thing Myrina knew, her brother was yanked up by his hair and planted on his feet next to the centurion. Marcus stood wobbly next to him as a few coin sized pieces of, blood stained, poo dropped out of his anus. "I like the way my cock feels as it's fucking away your dignity, straight from the ass," the captain smiled. "I'll keep you shackled up for my own use. Until your body expires, that is." He pushed the weary, nude boy; leading him out, "No one ever lasts long in my cellar," he laughed.

The soldier with Myrina put his sword away and pushed her along to follow them. "You, my succulent flower," the captain looked back to the lament girl, "You're going to make me a pretty sum on the market." He smiled and brought his attention back forward as they were then silently escorted out of their home.

Still completely nude, Marcus was pushed into the captain's carriage that was awaiting the centurion leader, directly in front of the house. The boy's head hung; only managing a quick glance towards her, but Myrina no longer saw life in his eyes. He looked as if his soul were already in the company of Neveious in the underworld. When Marcus was closed inside, she was led to another carriage, a few strides away, which pulled an empty steel cage. She was hoisted into the small jail cell; which was fastened shut behind her. Myrina grasped the cold bars between her hands; slinking her head against them as she wept; the rusted stench of the cage wafting up her nose.

The people on the streets gathered to witness the arrest, but she cared not for the spectators. The horses where whipped; starting the prison carriage forward. Her ride trundled off; away from her home, away from her dead mother, away from her dear brother, and away from her freedom.


	2. Caput Secundum

Myrina's prison-cart pulled into a lot, no more than a single spell away from Venalicium, the city's largest market; dominated by the slave trade. Torches burned bright against the already darkened sky. The carriage halted next to one of the brick walls that enclosed, what looked like, the holding area of all the slaves for the morning's trade. Her driver hopped down from the front of the coach before exchanging a few words with the gruff looking man that was already there. The two kept looking back to her; she couldn't make out what they were saying but could only imagine that she was the main subject of conversation.

The gruff man took a torch and walked to her cage. Startled, Myrina jumped back as he thrust the flame towards to her. "Yeah, this pupa should yield us a handsome purse."

"Girl," the man leaned his head to the bars; revealing his rotted teeth and foul breath, "come closer I need to verify." Myrina gulped; her back pressed hard against the bars that were to the wall of the large court yard they found themselves in. She was frozen in fear, her body refusing to move an inch closer to him. "Listen, my new pupa. When one of ya don't listen, I take my whip to ya. But I don't like it 'cause mark'n up my merchandise ain't exactly smart; turns da customers away." He grumbled and pointed to the side of the cage where he was standing, "So, assume'n ya don't want a blow, come here, girl."

Myrina looked to said whip, buckled at his waist. Taking in a deep breath; she crawled over to him; cage too low to walk the way. When she fell into reach of his grasp, he seized her arm; pulling her right against the bars which separated them. With a surprisingly gentle touch, opposed to the stone clutch of his other hand that held her in place, he slid his finger between her legs. Myrina screeched and tensed as he pushed at her tender septum, yielding great discomfort with a slight pain. His hand was gone as fast as it had come, "Yep," he let go of her arm and turned to the driver, "She ain't never been cock sheathed. Captain 'll be pleased wit what we should get from her in da morn."

A startled Myrina; still clenching her pelvic muscles; looked about the area. She had to strain her eyes to see in the darkness, but could make out multitudes of cages with people securely enclosed within them. One was quite near to her own with five men imprisoned inside; assuming it to be her own captures' slaves for the trade. "Ah, nah, just leave her be in dere." Myrina's attention was taken by her drive's words in referring to her. "I have no more pickups for the night."

The girl breathed a trivial sigh of relief; glad she didn't have to share a confinement with a small gathering of foreign men. The two merchants then went to sit at a barrel with two crates on either side of it. Sitting on the make-shift chairs, each picked up a discarded hand of cards; continuing a game that was already in progress from before her arrival.

Myrina huffed; dropping onto the hard metal floor before leaning up against one of the prison walls; cage bars ridged beneath her. Her shock finally began to wear off; her body began to quiver and she pulled her legs closer to her. She felt the cold of night, the fear of the unknown, the pain of loss, and anger towards her father. How could he let this happen to them? The teen hugged her stomach that felt pregnant with weighty stones; trembling hands and chattering teeth, she rocked slightly in her seat; tears welling up in eyes. The pressure in her abdomen grew heavier, unbearably so. She realised that she had to urinate; she hadn't for a long time now. Quickly before her bladder burst; she pitched up her knee-length stola and peed out the bottom of her cage. She winced at the drops of warm liquid that bounced back off the bars; hitting her in the bum. She spotted a man in a confinement across the way; watching her relive herself; but cared little. Humiliation was at the bottom of her emotional list at that moment.

Once she had finished, she crawled over a trifle and lay down; curled into a little ball of discomfort. She gagged at the smell of her own excrement, attempting to hold down the bile at the pit of her stomach.

When her tears had all dried out, she closed her eyes and hoped that when she opened them next; things would be back to how they were. She didn't need to wait for her father to rescue her; there would be nothing for him to rescue her from. With that denial prevalent in her mind, she fell into an exhausted slumber, praying to the gods to find pity on her and her family, She hoped they would allow the sands of the hourglass to flow bottom up; reversing time itself.

Myrina awoke to the clang of her cell's latch being opened. A strong hand grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of her confinements; her feet crashing to dirt. "Wake up, my pretty pupa," the same man that verified her virginity the night before, grumbled. Myrina barely found her footing before a shackle was clamped around her wrist and a cup of water was thrust into her hand. She squint her eyes in response to the rising sun; quickly taking in her surroundings. She found herself shackled to the end of a thick rope along with the five other men that she recalled from the night before. The courtyard was packed with slaves all being herded out into to the nearby market. The place reeked worse with the temperature quickly rising.

Myrina's rope was jerked; spilling her water, as her line was lead out. Before she knew it, her, now empty, cup was collected by a young lad she only assumed was an offspring of one of the merchants. After a relatively short walk they were lead into the market; a large square at the boarders of the city. One could not even see a quarter of it from standing at one end, it was so enormous.

They were pulled through multitudes of people and kiosks. There were slaves, merchants, customs, and entertainers all bumping elbows in the market. The noise of commotion was almost unbearable to the teen. "Educated Slaves! Get your educated slaves here," she kept hearing shout out by various merchants, or, "Fat, juicy, calves here! Premium specimens for sacrifice!"

About half way in, they stopped; their merchant secured the end of their rope to a large wooden post in the ground.

Already in their selling area, a lanky man in nice robes stood there, awaiting them. "What, did you sleep in, Pavlos?" The man laughed towards their merchant; Myrina finally discovering her captor's name. She found it slightly ironic that the burly man's name meant, 'small', yet found no delight in it due to her current distressing mood.

"Ah, ya shit faced scoundrel," Paylos answered in good humour, "Laïors, ya think the sun itself is late every morn." The man she now knew as, Laïors, laughed. "So, Captain tell ya about her, me thinkn'?" The merchant gestured with his thumb towards her.

"Yes he did. Said she was a beauty too," the prospector approached Myrina; she took a small step back in response, "Daughter of a senator…" his voice muttered and trailed off; reaching for her stola and tugging it off her body where it fell to the ground. He wanted to see the merchandise better. Myrina covered herself with her hands, only for them to be swatted away by Paylos.

The merchant then commented in praise; wanting to sell her for top price, "See, she's exquisite, ain't she?"

Laïors's gaze slowly worked its way down her body; licking his lips when stopping at her genitalia. He muttered; hand reaching for her centre, "Is she still a—"

"Virgin?" the merchant finished the other man's query. "yep," Paylos quickly shoved the other man's wandering hand away before it groped her, "We talk price before you touch my pupas," he said teasingly. Myrina sighed with relief, strangely grateful for Paylos' presence.

The well-dressed, Laïors, looked back to her face and smirked; sending a nervous chill up her spine. "I'll give you seventy-five for her." He said to Paylos, not taking his eyes off her; then directing his next comment to her specifically, "You'll do swimmingly at my brothel."

"As your financial adviser?" Myrina spat out in desperation; shocking herself in both the outburst, and the dry croaking sound of her voice.

"What?" the man scrunched his face at her.

"Well I'm very educated; I speak both common and judicial tongue. I have a knack for accounting and finances. I simply do not see the logic of you paying a common slave's worth, be it as it might, a virgin slave, but never the less, a common slave, if I can be sold off as a slave that can turn a profit with financial planning alone."

"Girl, a whore can turn a profit too, just fine," Laïors said.

"Yes, but for an educated slave," Myrina countered, "my good merchant here," she gestured to Paylos, "can ask for more than you're offering."

"The girl speaks truth," Paylos nodded, "Wit da ability to speak da language of da law alone, brings her value up to at least double, probably more. Ya better start talking in da hundreds, my cheap-ass crony."

"What?" Laïors spat, "The Captain told me about her to purchase as an asset to my house. Don't make me pay more for her brains. I don't intend for her to use them anyway."

"Captain wants me to make him money, and I want to make me self a plump commission here too."

"I'll give you two-hundred-fifty for her," A man that looked to be in his sixties with a long white beard, approached the scene.

"What?" both brothel owner and merchant asked in unison.

"I own a farm, I need someone to keep my books and read all those damned mumbo-jumbo laws that somehow keep screwing over us farmers, because no one seems to understand them." He griped but in an oddly, still kind, tone, "If this girl can decipher them and keep the empire from raping my ass in taxes due to it, I'll pay two-hundred-fifty gold for her."

"No!" the brothel owner stomped his foot not unlike a petulant child, "I want her, she's mine! I'll give you four-hundred." He offered Paylos.

"Look boy," The farmer addressed Laïors, "Why would you pay top price for a slave that speaks the Imperial lawful tongue, when the only thing you care about her tongue is, if it can lick a man's cock into eruption?"

"I can do with my money as I wish, old man," the brothel owner approached him; trying to intimidate, but the farmer just chuckled under his breath in regards to the scrawny aristocrat.

"Fine," the farmer smirked, "Pay the merchant and take her then. I hope she's worth it because for that price, you could get at least six uneducated virgins, with equally functioning tongues that lick. " The man then turned around and continued on his way.

"Okay, Paylos," the aristocrat regarded him, "I'll give you one-fifty."

"Laïors, ya cheat." He said sternly, "Ya give me what ya offered, or no deal."

"Oh do be reasonably, that old fuck is right. I can buy so many more retard cock suckers for that price."

"Laïors, ya've got three seconds to give me yur gold coins, before de girl is off de table."

"Wha—?"

"One."

"Oh, Paylos, come on now…"

"Two," The merchant gave him a look as if to say, 'speak up now or don't whine like a bitch later.'

Laïors clenched his jaw, folded his arms and failed to speak up.

"Three," Paylos whipped his head around and called out, "Ya want de girl? Ya got her!" The farmer, who had only separated himself by a few strides within that time; stopped in his tracks, before slowly turning back.

Wordlessly, he approached the merchant, thrusting the agreed upon amount into his hand. Paylos wasted no time in unshackling Myrina. The farmer took her discarded stola up off the ground; handing it back to her. The girl breathed a sigh of relief; taking the offered item; hastily wrapping and tying it back around herself; happy to be clothed again.

She then followed the farmer away from the merchant. He did nothing to hinder her from running off; no shackles, ropes nor cage; he simply allowed her to trail along with him through the market, unbound. With overgrown joy towards the farmer's rescue, she smiled, "Oh thank you sir. You won't be disappointed with your purchase. My father is senator of finan—"

"Quite, girl!" The man's previously soft expression morphed ridged, "I don't want to know who you are or where you came from!" Myrina stiffened her body in reaction. He studied her for a moment then sighed; anger leaving his tone and face, "Look, knowing things about my slaves only makes for more complicated lives. I don't want to know anything about you."

"Not even my name?"

"You're my slave now. You can't keep talking like you're a citizen. You only respond when I say so." Myrina nodded her head in understanding; hating how she was being disrespected. "Now give me a name that you wish to be called by. And don't make it complicated, I'm an old man with a poor memory," he almost smiled at her.

Myrina didn't have to think long before answering, "Sera."

The man nodded, "simple, short, sweet, I'll remember it," he said before they both pushed their way through the thickening crowd.

They spent very little time at Venalicium. Her new dominus purchased, in addition to herself, two young burly boys as common workers in the field, as well as a few empty scrolls and some blankets. She was unsure if the coverings were intended for livestock or for humans.

Soon the four of them found themselves out of the market; at the man's carriage that was parked in a large field along with, about, two hundred others. A young boy jumped off of Myrina's dominus's carriage before speedily re-hitched his two horses. The lad was paid then left to find a new customer to watch their horse and buggy while they shopped.

"Boys in the back," the farmer instructed, "Sera, you can sit up front," he gestured for her to hop in beside him. It took the girl a moment to register her late mother's name, as her own.

They rode out of the city, through the surrounding forest and into farm country. The entire time, Myrina's heart sank more and more inside her chest. How would her father ever find her now?


	3. Caput Tertium

Myrina walked out of the weathered brick farm house, which was closer in resemblance to an old lookout fort, than a home and office building. She rubbed the back of her neck, which had a rather bothersome crick in it. She had been pouring over un-ending financial statements and Imperial tax laws. In the seven long years that she had been enslaved by her widower Dominus, Elioud, she had never been so worried about the farm's finances. The drought that had begun the year she arrived had yet to break; their agricultural livelihood suffered gravely in result.

The twenty one-year-old woman scanned the farmyard. Her features had grown more full and beautiful with age. Her emerald eyes gazed over the large lodging house that accommodated the grange's sixty-two male slaves. Most of who were field workers. The building sat on top of the largest hill on the acreage. The grass that lined the mound only grew browner within each passing year. Myrina then looked to the smaller house in the opposite direction, which was home for the eight female slaves, herself included.

Myrina was overcome with the sudden need to break away, as she bolted towards her lodgings. Her mind raced with hundreds of scenarios. What was she going to do now?

She feared that if the farm went poverty-stricken, she, along with many of the others, would either be sold along with the farm to be enslaved by a different master or they would be scattered and liquidated along with the property and put back on the slave market.

It's not that the woman found her life spectacular as a slave on the farm, but it was in no means a horrible way of life. She had no rights, no future, and no dreams, but in the least, she was safe, fed three square meals a day and, in all her time there, she had never been once struck or mistreated by her master. She was one of his favourite slaves, and he made sure she was well taken care of. Elioud knew she saved him money by the bundles each year, and she didn't steal a fraction of it. Not that she would have much to do with the cash if she had. They were several spells away from the nearest market and even further away from the city. Even if she were to save a portion of cash and make a run for it, she wouldn't know where to go or what to do. The fact was; she was great at her job there and highly respected amongst the other slaves. She was the one that stuck her neck out to make sure the others got proper tools, meals, bedding and clothing. If the budget didn't permit these things for them, she would play around with it until something yielded for her fellow slaves.

The young woman ran down the yard and across the dried up dugout towards the house. She passed a little tree that, she could have sworn, had not grown so much as a knot since the day she arrived on the farm. "Father," she said whilst kicking the only low branch protruding out from the dried-up stump. Myrina's brother used to have a funny saying, 'If in glee, kick a tree. If not in glee, kick a tree anyway, because kicking trees are fun.' In honour of her family, she kicked that tree every time she passed it, and said one of their names; always keeping them close in thought.

The past few days she had kicked it in her father's name. She had not heard a peep about her brother's whereabouts. Her logical mind told her he was long dead. She had though, on the contrary, heard tidings on her father. A couple months after she was sold, there was word that Marcus III had been hanged for his treason by order of the Royal Crown. However, the empire did not hold a public hanging, but a private one, and failed to produce the body as proof. These circumstances had yielded many sceptics that believe that the government had never caught him in the first place. They theorised that he was still alive and free, and was now the present leader of the rebellion.

Myrina was also one of these sceptics, or rather, she tried to be. She wanted to believe that her father was still out there, but it was hard for her to accept it at times for if he was still alive, he had yet to save her. After seven years, he should have been able to locate her, unless he thought her dead. A popular rationalisation of hers was that if he had indeed found her, maybe he hadn't yet stolen her away because he wished for her to walk away a free woman. If he was the one leading the rebellion, maybe his intentions were to end slavery laws for her benefit as well as all the other slaves out there.

She quickly approached the lodging for the female slaves and noticed her elder roommate, Pêrô, who had become as close to a mother as her own, talking with the stable hand, Nikolas. Pêrô used to sit at the edge of Myrina's bed those first few weeks on the farm and rub her back, as she wept herself to sleep. The older of the duo was propped up against the wricked old gate in front of the building, deep in conversation. The men were not permitted to go beyond the fence bordering the women's lodgings.

"Sera, love!" Pêrô called out with excitement towards the girl in sprint, "Did you see him yet?"

Myrina cocked her head; running the last twenty strides towards them. She halted, asking, "What? See who?"

"What? Really? Dominus didn't tell you about him yet?" Nikolas, the old hand, inquired in shock.

The curly haired brunette squint and shook her head, "I repeat again, 'who'?"

"The Great Thanos!" The elder of the couple spat out together with glee.

Myrina looked to Nikolas then to Pêrô; running the name over in her head, recognising it from her childhood, "He was that Licentia Pugna fighter, correct?"

"Licentia Pugna fighter?" Pêrô repeated in disapproval towards her word choice, "He was The Licentia Pugna champion!"

"Yeah, he made it to Laureola without breaking a sweat," Nikolas explained with great idolized passion, "Then he destroyed his final opponent with the demigod strength of ten men!"

Both Myrina and Pêrô exchanged a look; chuckling, "Demigod there, eh, Nik?" the elder woman jabbed him with her elbow. "Ten men, you say?" she continued in a teasing manner.

"You joke," he said with an intense sincerity, "But you know my late master owned the arena. I didn't miss even one of The Great Thanos's fights. I was the guy who shovelled up his opponent's guts from out of the dirt, after each match."

"Ew, Nik," Pêrô's face contorted, "you promised you wouldn't speak of such sordid things."

The man looked to her a little sheepishly, "Oh, right, my apologies."

The brunette only smiled for a brief moment, at the two people she cared most for in the world, before her mind was busy trying to figure out what was going on with their new guest. "Why is he here?" Myrina veered them back on topic.

"Well, we're making a place for him in the men's house, so the only thing I figure is—"

"Neveious almighty, he's a slave again!" Pêrô gasped.

"No," Myrina and Nikolas shook their heads in disbelief. Then the young woman thought on it a little longer, "No…" she repeated, "It can't be, can it?" she looked to the man. "Elioud didn't purchase him. I would have known. I actually forbade him from spending more than one gold without my say so."

"Sera, love," Pêrô gently took the girls chin in her hand; giving it a loving rub with her thumb before letting it go, "I know Dominus respects your opinions, because he's no idiot and knows you to be smarter than the entire farm put together, but he can still do what he wishes with his money. You are still his slave."

The young woman felt a sharp pain to her gut in hearing the other woman's words. It put her situation right into perspective. No matter how keen she was, she still mattered little. "I still don't think he's a slave, though," Myrina pushed her emotions aside and rationalised the situation, "There is just no money in the budget right now for another one. And why would The Great Thanos be a slave again?"

"Yeah, I don't rightfully know," Nikolas thought on it too, "Last I heard, he was a renowned doctoris and Laureola champions in the ring, for one of the Houses."

"How long ago was this 'last hearing' of yours," Pêrô asked him, "And don't you dare say, slaves aren't permitted to have hearings, again, 'cause that wasn't funny the first time," she shot him a glare.

"Sheez woman, I wasn't going to say that again, I learned my lesson the first time," he took a step away from her; scared of what she might do to him, "Nah, I heard this a few years back. One of the newer slaves from the neighbour's farm were talking about him with me. He saw some of his fights too. And!" the stable hand glowered back at the woman, "he agreed with me that Thanos had demigod strength!" Pêrô just rolled her eyes at his immaturity that seemed to be un-dying in regards to his old age, not that she, herself, was all that much younger than him.

"So, he just got here today, then?" Myrina asked; ignoring their banters. The two merely nodded in conformation. "I've been shut away in my office all afternoon, so it's not like Dominus couldn't locate me." The girl looked back towards the farmhouse in the distance, "I'm going to find out what's happening here on my farm." Myrina then began the walk back towards the main building to find their master.

"It's not your farm!" Pêrô called out in correction.

"No, it won't be my farm if it goes under!" She hollered back, over her shoulder. Myrina was not in delusion about whose farm it was, but she would be damned if it would go bankrupted because of her master's unsanctioned spending.

Myrina was told by one of the scullery maids that she could find Elioud in the library. She wasn't surprised to find him there since he had retired there almost every eve with a book and a glass of mulsum. Pêrô had told her that he and his wife would read there together every Sunday evening, but after she had passed away those fifteen years ago, he would go into the library almost every night on his own.

The young woman opened the large library door, which was whittled with a beautiful pictorial of the Great Third Year War that ended over five centuries ago. The victors were the first settlers of Philathymna.

Myrina slipped into the room, knowing that she along with his two personal slaves, were the only ones that could enter the room unannounced and without knocking. She remained at the entrance until she was invited in and permitted to speak. She stood there a few long seconds, rocking on the balls of her feet, wanting desperately to question the man and his actions, but she knew to hold her tongue.

"Sera, you have that look about you, again," Elioud spoke calmly from his oversized reading chair, only taking his eye off his codex for an instant to see her face. "That raised eyebrow, cocked neck, clenched jaw…" he trailed off; concentration falling back into his literature.

His words of acknowledgment opened the floor for her to speak to him. "Do you have an amount for me?"

"Amount for what?" answered Elioud; nose still in text.

"An amount for me to enter into our ledger," Myrina huffed a little in frustration and hurt, "For our new arrival." In all her time there, he had never purchased a slave without her present, and he always used her as a consultant in the matter.

"Oh, do not concern yourself with him. It has all been taken care of," He waved her off.

"But, how am I to keep our books if I do not—"

"Sera!" Speaking sharply, he cut her off; looking up from his readings, "I said, do not concern yourself with the matter," His eyes glared at her.

"Yes, Dominus," Myrina bowed and backed out of the room; shutting the door in front of her.

Never had he kept a financial secret from her. She worried gravely. It all seemed a little too suspicious to her.

Over the next few days, Myrina, along with the others, discovered that the Great Thanos, was there to work as a blacksmith. No one could quite figure if he was indeed a slave or not; he lodged with the slaves, and ate with the slaves, and worked like a slave, but he never spoke a lick to anybody.

Nikolas had told Myrina and Pêrô that he had tried on many occasions to converse with his hero, but the brawny middle-aged man, just turned his shoulder and ignored him, along with the others. Thanos had become the great mystery on the farm. Some took his presence as an omen of good fortune, others, like Myrina, took him as a sign of bad things to come.

"Shit," Nikolas tracked Thanos with his gaze, one evening in the mess while eating supper, as the younger man sat down at a table across the way, by himself, "If I were thirty years younger, I'd get him to train me, so I could enter Licentia Pugna and win my freedom ."

Pêrô, who was at the table with both him and Myrina, snorted a laugh, "More like if you were forty years younger."

"Oh, quiet you," he smiled, "No, but in truth, this farm is going down. I would not be surprised if by this time next year, we'll all be someplace different."

"Nikolas, stop!" Pêrô protested his words. The sweet lady hated when both he and Myrina talked of sad misfortunes.

"Pêrô, you cannot live in denial forever." She huffed at his words. "Hear me out, though. If I were younger I would win my freedom before the farm went bankrupt. With proper training under that man," he pointed to Thanos, "you are guaranteed to win every battle."

"Oh, I suppose you would only be grateful in leaving me behind here after you win all your battles, then?" The elder woman crossed her arms. Myrina couldn't contain a giggle at that point. The two were inseparable and loved each other so much. They would have been long married if the law would permit it so.

"Well, I guess I would have to leave you here. If you want to come with, you will just have to enter Pugna on your own," He grinned at her.

"Oh, you know women cannot enter into arena fights," she scowled back at him. "No, we are to be left for the sex-trade!"

"I would never let that happen," the man said protectively, "I would merely buy you and Sera."

"In your dreams am I ever going to be your slave!" She pushed him hard, almost knocking him off his seat with a smile.

"Is that in the law?" Myrina was now half listening to the pair as the gears in her brain turned.

"Huh?" the two of them looked to her.

"Women cannot enter Licentia Pugna. Is that in the slavery law, or is it simply, no woman has done it before?" she looked to them, where their faces turned blank.

"I- I don't know" Nikolas thought on it for a moment.

Wordlessly, Myrina sprung up from the table and headed towards her office in the main house.

"Sera! Love! Where are you going?" The young woman heard Pêrô call, but she chose to ignore her. She was on a mission.

Myrina burst through her office doors; heading straight for her shelf that held all the law codices. She pulled out the slavery laws scroll. On her way to her desk she almost tripped over her rubbish crate; her eyes were glued onto the parchment that she was unrolling. She dropped into her hard wooden chair whilst spreading the scroll out on the surface of the desk.

With her finger pulling down the page; she began skimming the text until she reached the particular section about arena fights, then began to read aloud to herself:

-Only a slave permitted by their Dominus/Domina may fight in Licentia Pugna preliminaries.

-A Licentia Pugna Sponsor House is not necessary to have during Licentia Pugna.

-A Slave gains their freedom if they win entrance into Laureola.

-In order to enter the Laureola battle, you must possess full citizen rights. If not, you will be executed immediately by order of the Imperial Crown. (Laureola is not a slave battle. See citizen law)

Myrina smirked deviously in not finding anything pertaining to women not being allowed to fight. Her main concern now was, how to convince Thanos to train her and Elioud to allow her to enter Licentia Pugna, and all before the farm goes under, which she feared more than ever, was inevitable. She could then become a free woman and save her little slave family of three.


	4. Caput IV

After Myrina collected and entered the inventory of both kitchen and stable into the books, that next day, she wandered down to the blacksmith shop to speak with Thanos.

When the woman approached the work station she found the ex-doctoris pounding out a sickle blade. The man was very large and muscular with dark tanned skin and slightly bleached hair due to his continuous sun exposure. Both his back and chest were covered in scars giving him a pronounced hardened battle look.

Myrina halted just within the threshold of the shop's side door; folded her hands and waited silently to be noticed. This had become the way of the slave, never speaking first or becoming a bother to someone of higher or uncertain status.

Thanos happened a glance towards her whilst hammering but paid no heed to her; merely continuing on his work. Myrina remained still and continued to wait, but still no recognition came from the man. Crossing her arms, she began to grind her teeth and tap her foot while he hammered away. When the man went to heat his blade in the fire, she cleared her throat rather loudly, demonstrating that she was still there and was not about to leave. Yet, still he ignored her.

The young woman soon became infuriated, never in her life had someone ignored her so. Yes, she was a slave, but even slaves were addressed after a certain amount of time had transpired. Sometimes only to be sent away, but they were always shown recognition.

Myrina scanned the shop to find Thanos's lunch sitting in a small open wooden box next to a few various tools. It was the same sized crate that she herself used to house her quills and ink atop of her desk. The man turned back to his anvil after cooling the blade in water, placing the farm tool back onto it to pound some more. Just as the man lifted his hammer Myrina quickly walked up, took hold of his lunch and placed it atop the sickle, hindering his swing.

In slight shock towards her actions, the man looked to his wobbling, but balanced food crate, then up to the girl. She raised a brow and folded her arms at her chest. His hard brown eyes locked onto hers as he slowly moved his food off to the side. He then lifted his hammer again where Myrina grabbed hold a rag and wrapped her hand in it, placing it atop the hot sickle blade.

"Move your hand, girl, or it's to be flattened," Thanos finally spoke up in a gruff order.

"I am certain that Dominus will not care in the slightest if his slave of finances has a lamed writing hand," Myrina challenged him.

"You'll just have to learn how to write with the other one then," he grunted and swung his hammer.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Myrina tensed but did not remove her hand. A painfully powerful vibration ran through her entire limb. She was certain that he had squelched her hand, but when she opened her eyes she saw the hammer peen right up against her pinky finger, missing it by a quarter knot.

Myrina then looked up at him. "Why must you be so difficult?" she spat, "I only wish to speak with you! Is talking really grounds for a nearly- malformation?"

"Me, difficult?" he gasped, "You seem to be more pigheaded than the spoiled aristocracies I know!"

"And you seem to be ruder than everyone I know!"

The man sighed heavily with a growl; throwing his hammer off to the side with a loud crash. "What is it that you want from me? Elioud assured me that I would be left be."

She removed her hand from the anvil before un-wrapping it. "So you are not a slave then?" Myrina stated more than asked in regards to the name that he had just addressed her dominus with.

"If I say that I am, will you respect slave/citizen law of communication and shut up and piss off if I tell you to?"

"Unlikely," Myrina answered stoically.

He eyed her, giving her a once over, "you were born a lady," He took a step towards her, "I can tell not only by your annoyingly entitled attitude. But by your scrawny form and large forehead it is easy to see that you were an overly educated noble that wouldn't know manual labour if it kicked the codex right out of your ink stained hands."

Myrina put her palm to her prefrontal lobe, "My forehead is not large!" She then threw her arm down, "hey, you didn't answer my enquiry! Are you, or are you not, a citizen?"

He glared at her and walked towards her with a slight limp. Not one generated by a lame leg, but rather, he walked as if he had only just dismounted off a horse's back. He stilled right in front of her and leaned in close. "You figure it out; you're a clever girl, Sera, slave of finances."

"You know my name?"

"Not to hard to figure out," he turned and sauntered back to his work; throwing the sickle blade back into the fire and grabbing hold of his hammer.

"Well, I know your name too."

"Congratulations," he muttered sarcastically.

"The Great Thanos"

He turned, red hot sickle blade in hand pointing at her, "Do not put those words before my name!" He barked, "That is no longer my title! That man is dead!" Myrina gulped in fright and merely nodded her head in understanding. "Now just get out of here. You- you infuriate me so," He dropped his head and shook it before dunking the blade into the pail of water briefly then laying it back on the anvil.

"But I wish to ask you something."

The man then began hammering; trying to cover up her voice with its clanging.

Myrina just growled and started to shout over his banging, "I want you to train me to fight so that I can enter Licentia Pugna!"

The man halted mid-swing and looked to her, "what?"

The young brunette swallowed before she repeated herself; quieter and slower this time, "I want you to train me to fight so that I can enter Licentia Pugna."

The burly man broke into a laugh, "Girl, you sound retarded in the brain. Women cannot enter the arena battles"

"No, no" Myrina approached him, "They can! It's just that they haven't. There is no law that says that they cannot."

The man stopped his laughter and eyed her, "What? So? It matters not if the law says that they can or cannot fight. They would simply be destroyed by the stronger men, nevertheless."

"Stronger is not always better in a fight. And if you are really as good as people say you are, you would know this. Speed in both body and mind is what wins battles."

The man looked at her silently for a few seconds, "You are really serious about this? You really want to become the first female Licentia Pugna fighter?"

"Yes," she said strongly, "Will you help me?"

He remained silent for another moment before speaking, "Your Dominus would never give his permission for his greatest asset to become slaughtered meat in Pugna. There is no point in this discussion."

"Wait, so you are saying that if I get Dominus's permission, you will train me?" She asked excitedly.

"No," he answered before putting the blade back into the fire.

"Why?"

"I am retired," he said matter-of-factly.

"But if I win, you will be the doctoris that trained me, the first woman Laureola champion! You will become the most famous name in history of Licent—"

"I don't care! Fame is nothing. Just leave me be!" He angrily ordered her out.

"Is there not anything that will change your mind? Do you not miss training fighters?"

"For the love of Amōs, do you not know how to hold your tongue?" He aggressively shoved the sickle into the pail; water splashing everywhere. "You know what I want?" He spat out in frustration, "A heap of gold so that I can get a cottage in the woods and then truly dis…" he looked to her; quickly settling his tone; gears appeared to be turning inside his head, "…appear." He cocked his head at her. Myrina blinked blankly towards him. "You want to train under me? Fine," he nodded.

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"Sure, if you embezzle money for me."

Myrina gasped, "What? No way, I could never—"

"I want four gold a week as payment for your lessons."

"A week?" She blurted, "That's one hundred ninety-two gold for the year!"

"Wow, you are quick," he smirked, "Nevertheless, this is my offer, take it or leave it."

"But, even if I were willing to steal for you, the farm could never afford this kind of loss. It is simply too much money."

"Then bankrupt the place," He shrugged his shoulders.

"Is this all some big joke to you? Do you know how many lives would be affected if this place went under?"

"Word has it that it's going under anyway. But who am I to say, I'm not the one who is in charge of finances. That would be your job," he smirked at her. "Besides, it will most likely work out in your favour if you are sold to another master. Just play retard but show your skill with a sword and your passion to fight. They will probably buy you at a low cost and enter you into Licentia Pugna for cheap entertainment and a shot at making a name for themselves."

"I will not go for that cheap on the market," she informed him. "Acting retarded or not I still have a profitable asset."

He squinted at her in confusion where her eyes flickered down to her crotch. "Oh holy Neveious, no!" he began to howl with laughter, "How old are you…seriously?"

"Hey!" Myrina hugged herself; offended at his reaction towards her state of virginity, "Not all girls are sluts!"

He shook his head with pure amusement on his face, "Fuck girl... literally." He soon stopped his laughter and looked down to his small lunch crate; pulling out a large carrot. "Here," he shoved it in her hands. "Now tear your asset and decide what you want to do. I've got work here, so beat it and only come back if you have my gold."

Myrina looked to the vegetable in hand and then turned around to head out. She stopped at the door, however, when recognition fell upon her, "We would have to train in secret."

"Indeed, every morning for two hours before dawn."

"Three!" she spun around to face him.

He chuckled, "Whatever, three then. It will make no difference."

"You don't think that I can do this, do you?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It does to me."

"Well it shouldn't. You are a slave; people's opinions of you are pretty fucking low. It will kill you if you care."

"Well, I'm not dead yet!" Myrina rebutted.

"You have it easy here, pupa. Once you get back into the city, back into the real world, you will be changing your tune," he said with almost a hint of sadness to his voice. "Now go," he gestured with his head towards the door before taking the over-cooled blade out of the water and placing it back into the fire.

The young woman left with a head of chaos desperately needing to sort through it. Was she ready to write off the farm for her own personal gain? She could never imagine herself doing that. She lived by a code of honesty and loyalty. Secrecy, lying, and theft, were too much of a compromise on her morals.

Myrina trudged up the narrow stairs of the women's lodging house that same evening. Bounding up its last leg; skipping the second step to the top that had rotted through. She navigated the dark hallway that she knew so well she could walk it blinded, and often did in the dark evenings. She soon entered her and Pêrô's room; second door on the right.

"Hello love," Pêrô looked up from her sewing by lamp light, "You missed supper."

"Yeah…" Myrina muttered, "I ate a big carrot!" She huffed an awkward snigger, "But yeah, I was working late. Guess I lost track of the time," She sighed heavily and dropped, face down, into her firm, short bed that she had long out grown.

"Monthly inventory?" The elder woman asked.

"Uh-huh," The girl mumbled into her pillow.

"I thought you were nearly done with those yesterday?"

Myrina lifted her head and rolled over onto her side in order to see the other woman, "I was. It's just that… I don't know -I just had a slow day I suppose."

"Something's tickling at you," she pointed her thread and needle at her, "I know that bothered look of yours when I see it."

Myrina smiled and gasped in both annoyance and amusement, "I do not have a bothered look."

Pêrô hummed warmly, "Oh, my dear child, one of the most precious things about you is that you wear your thoughts and emotions on your exterior."

The brunette laughed, "How is that even remotely considered precious?"

"Because," she smiled peacefully, "Our world is made up of masks. No one is who you think they are and everyone thinks that they are someone else. But not you, love, you are true to your beliefs and allow the world to read your feelings and know your intents."

"No," Myrina whined out, "Do not say that, please just don't" She dropped her head back into her pillow. "You cannot say that, that is exactly what's holding me back!"

"Holding you back? What are you talking about?"

Myrina growled in frustration over her situation and looked back to her, "What do you do if you have to do something bad in order for something good to come of it?"

"Well," Pêrô pursed her lips in thought, "I guess it would depend on if the good thing outweighed the bad thing."

"Alright," Myrina sat up in bed, flailing her hands whilst talking, "But what if the good thing is a gamble, and if you lose the gamble, the terribly bad thing that you did in order for the good thing to happen, wins out and everyone has to live with the bad thing?" She blurted out her query, completely overwhelmed, "And— and even if the bad thing is enviable with time, no matter what the person does, if they just help it along, is it really that bad?"

The older woman cocked her head and studied her in concern and confusion, "Has this something to do with the farm going bankrupt?"

"Sort of," she responded meekly.

"Did you find a dishonest way to fix the farm's financial problems or something?" The woman was guessing at what Myrina's conundrum was all about.

The girl almost cried out with a laugh, "Not exactly," Whilst dropping her heavy head into her hands.

"Oh dear," The woman put down her sewing before relocating; sitting next to Myrina on her bed. Pêrô then rubbed her daughter figure on the back. "Look, I don't know what's going on in that big brain of your right now, but I think I have a story for you."

Myrina, head still in hands, mumbled, "I don't think one of your legends will help me right now."

"Oh, but this one might," She cupped the brunette's chin and gently pushed it out of her hands; turning her face towards her own. "Have I ever told you about Triticus?" Myrina dumbly shook her head out of the woman's loose grasp. "Well, I shall tell you about him then. In the time when the gods walked the lands, Triricus, a noble ship captain, was traveling over the sea back to his motherland, Philathymna, with a very precious cargo given to him by Dianthe, the—"

"Goddess of the harvest," Myrina added in her mere auditory recollection proses.

"Mm-hm," The elder woman hummed and nodded, "But as he sailed along, a great storm came. It was so large that it was surely going to sink his ship. Triticus called out to the god of the sea, Aequoreus, for help. The god appeared to him within the enormous waves of the storm. He told the desperate captain that he would calm the waters only if Triricus threw over his one and only son, that was there, on board, with him. Aequoreus wished for a helper to live with him for eternity deep within the seas."

"What is with the gods always needing our help?" Myrina interrupted, "I thought they were gods!"

Pêrô chuckled at her and shrugged before continuing, "Triticus loved his son and could not imagine sacrificing him to the god, but he knew the cargo that he carried and the importance it held. So in utter grief, Triticus threw his son over the edge of his ship, down into the deep waters. As soon as the boy broke surface, the sea stilled and the grey storm clouds parted in the sky. In great despair, Triticus sailed home safely to deliver the goddesses great gift to the city."

"What was the gift?" Myrina asked in curiosity.

"It was a seed."

"A seed?" The girl repeated; scrunching her face. "Oh," she then said in realisation, "it was a grain of wheat!"

"…yes," Pêrô looked to her in surprise, "I thought I had not told you this story yet?"

"You hadn't, but Triticus means just that, wheat, in the old tongue…and gift from harvest goddess, really anything else would have just been illogical by how the whole story—plot was moving."

She smiled and pinched Myrina's cheeks; shaking her head side-to-side, "Oh, you are just too smart."

"Hey," With a grin she swatted Pêrô's hand away from her.

"Because of Triricus's sacrifice," Pêrô continued with her tale, "Our great land has its cereal crops." The older woman put an arm around Myrina; pulling her into a side hug, "See, a bad act can yield something magnificent."

"Yeah, but what about the guilt Triricus had to live with afterwards?" Myrina looked to her.

Pêrô sighed, "I suppose it was guilt without regret, so maybe he found a way to forgive himself."

Myrina studied the other woman's face, "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

The woman forced a smile, "No, I suppose not. If that was I in that position and I had to throw you overboard…" She thought on it for a moment longer, "Well, I wouldn't!" She laughed where Myrina joined in.

"No, no you wouldn't. You are much to kindhearted," Myrina smiled lovingly towards her.

"Yeah, I'm just one big mush ball," She chuckled. Her expression soon fell serious. "But you're not," She locked eyes with the girl, "You are much, much stronger than I am. You could live with the guilt. You would do what was right in the grand scheme of things."

"But what if when Triricus threw his son overboard, the storm still did not break?"

"Then he would have dove in straight after him and saved his life!" She nodded sternly before going back to her own bed and sewing.

Myrina slowly laid back down; throwing the sheets over herself. If she stole money for her lessons with Thanos, won her freedom and claimed her share of the purse, she could buy Pêrô and Nikolas from their new owners. She would pay any amount they asked. Then she would pay Elioud back for what she took from him. A cold shiver ran up her spine thinking upon the decision she was making right then and there that would forever change her life, as she knew it. She was going to go for it. With that she closed her eyes, but slumber never came to her that night.


	5. Caput Quintum

Myrina made certain to go to bed three hours earlier the night before her first lesson. Her body was rather good at knowing when she had eight hours of slumber, so she hoped in awake a few hours before sunrise. When she aroused that morning, two days after her initial conversation with Thanos, it was still pitch black inside her room. She sneaked out quietly as to not wake Pêrô. With her old, warn out toga in hand as well as one stolen gold coin; she crept out the door. She had stowed away her garment underneath her pillow the night before; not wanting to rummage about that room that morning.

Outside lighting a torch; Myrina set out in the opposite direction of the main house, down a path through the bush. It was a little nippy that morning but she welcomed the nice change from the day's scorching sun. The woman was quite nervous in anticipation regarding her first lesson. She didn't know what she feared more; being poor or being proficient in skill. If she was poor she could easily back out of her deal with Thanos. However, if she proved skillful, she would almost certainly go through with the whole affair.

After a seven minute walk she exited the treeline to the pond, or rather, the dried up pond. Before she entered the clearing she changed into her old toga; leaving her other one hanging over a tree branch to retrieve later. The garment was shorter than she recalled, but then again she had not worn it since she was sixteen years of age.

There in the clearing Thanos had several burning torches already fixed into the ground, circling the small wasted floor of where used to be pooling freshwater. There was also some rope coiled up on the ground amongst a few other things such as a pair of pails and a packed satchel.

"My gold?" He put out his hand, palm up, to her as she approached. Myrina sighed; handing him the one gold coin she carried; truly feeling like a criminal in the act. He raised a brow to it, "And the three others?"

"I will give them to you by the end of the week."

"No, no, no, pupa, this is not how this works. You are to pay me up front and I—"

"I can't!" She interrupted him, "That's not how reality works." She put her hands to her hips, "It's not like the farm has this giant room of gold sitting around that I can just merely take from. Most of the riches here are in assets, not cash. I will take as I can."

"My cost has not changed—"

"I realise, and you will get your money, I assure you."

"You assure me?" He muttered out gruffly.

"Yes! And I know that you are aware of my honest reputation," The girl added.

The man laughed out, "Yeah, real honest. Honest thief you are." Myrina wanted to negate his words but sighed heavily instead, recognising that he was in the right. "Are you going to cry now? Because we do not have to do this, poor little pupa," He said in a mocking tone.

"Stop calling me that!" Myrina snapped; remembering on the slave trader that called her that name prior. "And, no, I am not going to cry. And you know what? You are also not going to get your money if you are a disappointment."

"I don't think you're in the position to demand."

"Sure I am. I want your services, you want Dominus's money. You make me into a champion, you get your gold."

The man sighed heavily, "Get over her."

Timidly, she approached him where he grabbed one of two metal shin guards. He quickly buckled one around her right leg, then the other on her left. "Why are you putting—"

"My Amōs, you and your mouth. Just shut up. You only need to know things when I tell them to you." Myrina then silently picked up her feet, one at a time, after the heavy armour was strapped to her lower legs. They were very hefty, at least five kilograms each. He then gave her two wooden dowels that were both a little longer than half a stride. He repositioned her hands on them to hold onto the ends not unlike gripping a sword. "Now go run around the clearing along the tree line," He ordered her.

"How many laps?"

"Just run until I say so!" He spat at yet another question from her. "Do not allow the dowels to touch your body or each other."

The girl nodded in understanding before running up and out of the pound to the tree line. She huffed as she went along, the crisp air soon not feeling as crisp. She estimated her circuit's circumference at around four hundred strides or so. When she reached the halfway point, she thought that she was about to collapse. She actually was one to enjoy a run here and there but the most she travelled was from the farmhouse to her lodgings, and that was without weighted feet.

She glanced over to Thanos who was halfway up a tree which was just at the edge of their empty dugout area; stringing a rope up from its trunk. Normally the woman's curiosity would have bothered her more, but in the moment she was far too busy making certain that her feet kept moving without her passing out.

As she jogged along, one of her curls slipped from her French braid which irritated her so. It clung to her sticky sweat covered face. In response, she awkwardly lifted an arm; whipping it away with the inside of her elbow.

"Keep your sticks down!" She heard Thanos shout at her.

In a grumble towards his hollers she put her arm back down, which she would have done anyway, and kept jogging. When she had completed her first lap, her breathing sounded hollow in her own ears and she had a shooting cramp in her side. Myrina looked to Thanos who was now climbing up the neighbouring tree, of five strides, with the other end of the rope.

The brunette then glanced down to her dragging feet and low swinging arms, hating herself for moving that slowly. She needed to become a warrior and make her thieving worth it all. So she picked up her feet and swung her arms higher, pushing herself faster. After a few more rounds she began to slow down again, but she still never quit. She would run until either Thanos told her to stop, or she collapsed dead. Finally, after seven times around he called her over in with a simple wave of the hand.

"You need to keep your head up when you run," The man grunted and threw a sheep skinned canteen to her; dropping her sticks she caught it.

The woman only nodded whilst gasping for air. Fumbling with great weakness in her hands due to her prolonged exposure of grasping the dowels; she opened her canteen and guzzled down some water; coughing half of it back up.

Thanos eyed her before he began walking up to the two trees that were now tethered together, by a rope that was pulled taut, four strides high.

"Get on that rope," he pointed.

"Can I just have a moment to catch my breath first?" She panted.

"Catch your breath? Pupa, by the crawl you were going at just then, you'll never catch anything."

She huffed, not wanting to show weakness or an ounce of defeat, and walked up to the trees. She examined both trunks, picking the one with more branches to grab a hold of. "Other tree!" Was all he said to her.

Muttering under her breath, she walked over to the other stump and began scaling it. She grunted whilst pulling herself up, lacking the upper body strength to do it with ease and speed. When she made it to the rope, she extended out and took hold of it, gently dropping her body; suspending herself in mid-air.

"Now go to the centre of the rope," He instructed her.

Myrina pushed her hands to cross one another over and over again until she made it to the middle of the tether. Her sweaty palms were slipping with the extra weight at her feet pulling her down.

"Face your hands the same way," He told her where she complied as quickly as she could. "Now pull your chin up to the rope."

"What? How?" Myrina gasped in a cry.

"By the gods, stop asking questions and just do it!"

Myrina gulped before attempting her orders, but only getting a single knot up, she came crashing down from the rope. Falling into the soft dirt below; she rolled partially down the hill; lying sprawled out on her back heaving.

"Guess you need to read some bigger codexes there, pupa. Build up some muscle."

"Codice!" She corrected him with a lazy scowl, "And for the last time, stop calling me that!"

"Ah, we're done for today," He ignored her comment and swatted the air.

"What?" The girl jerked up into a sitting position, "No we are not! The deal was three hours!" She threw her hand to the horizon, "The sun is not even peeking." She then bounced up to her feet, "You are training me no matter what! That's what we discussed! You—"

Thanos hurled something small and brown at the girl, mid scorn. She was quick to react; putting her arm up shielding herself. The object hit her forearm and bounced off to the ground. "Ow!" she rubbed her arm, "That hur—" He chucked another one at her; this time hitting her in the forehead. "What are you doing?" He then picked a few more from a satchel on the ground and hurled yet another one. She crunched up and lifted her shin to stop it with her guard. "Stop it!" She ran away a bit, where he hurled one at her butt. "Ah!" She rubbed it in anger. The one went flying towards her head, but that time she spotted it with the corner of her eye and ducked it.

Deciding that the best plan of action was to stand her ground instead of turning tail; she faced the man throwing stone pinecones, she had soon recognised them to be. He whipped on towards her face where she pushed it away with the palm of her hand. Then one came at her feet; ricocheting off her armour, she allowed it to hit. A grunt came from Thanos before he whipped another one at her opened towed sandal, this time it whacked the top of her foot, hard. "Ah!" She lifted her foot in pain.

He then pelted another one at her other foot where she was quick to jump it; learning her lesson from before. He threw one at her stomach, hitting it hard. He flung a second pinecone again at the same spot, when she only barely stopped it with her arm. Again another pinecone was thrown at her arm, like he was purposely aiming for it. Then he did it another time; attacking the same spot on her limb. She winced in aching at the repeated impacts to her forearm.

She thought quickly on what to do; catching a glimpse of the two dowels that she had before, she when to them with great speed; scooping them up, holding them as she had previously done. The man smirked at her and hurled another stone pinecone at her stomach; snapping her right arm down, she stopped it with her stick. He flung another one at her head; she snapped her right stick up but missed it, where the cone whizzed right past her ear. It almost hit her but she had turned her head away just in time. He then lobbed one at her thighs where she swung the right stick down. She was too slow; it hit her with great force.

"You have two weapons, why are you using just one?" The man asked whilst picking up another batch of pinecones from the satchel at his feet. He then started barraging her with cone after cone; she flailed both arms spastically, trying to fend them off, but many hit her. "Ah!" one finally got her in the eye where she dropped a stick in response. "Can I not have a shield?" She held her eye and looked to him.

He hindered his attacks and said plainly, "You have a shield, those two sticks."

"No, I mean like a real shield."

"You are feeble of body, but seem to have a fairly quick response time. These will be both your weapons and shield. An armour shield slows you down; they are for the strong warriors. You are to become a dimachaerus fighter. Light armour, no shield."

"So all I get are two swords?" Myrina asked, processing all he had said.

"Any other style of fighting would be stupid, even more stupid than a female fighter, in and of itself."

"But wha—"

The man chucked another pinecone at her where she ducked from it. "What did I say about question?" Myrina sighed and dropped her hand from her eye; forcing it open. "Now grab those two water buckets over there," Thanos pointed at a pair of wooden pails that she knew from the black smith's shop.

The woman picked up the half full buckets of water, one in each hand. "Keep your arms straight, lift the buckets up to your sides making a cross shape with your body. Do not raise your shoulders."

Myrina wondered, "What are we doing now?" The man threw another pinecone at her forehead, "Ow! What was that for?" He threw another one, "Do you want me to stop these projectiles with the buckets or something?" She moved the pales in front of her body; shielding herself.

"Arms out to the side!" He repeated in annoyance.

"Why, so you can hit me again with those pinecones?" He whipped another one at her torso. "Ah!" He picked another one up and looked to her like he was waiting for something. The girl glared at him, trying to figure him out as she began lifting the buckets out to her sides as instructed.

"Slower," He said. The woman then adjusted her arm raise speed and complied. Her limbs burned, she felt as if she were lifting two boulders. "Slower," He came again.

"How much slo—" The woman then cut herself off, realising that she was asking yet another question; not wanting another pelting. The man smirked slyly towards her, resting his hand that held a pinecone within it.

Beads of sweat ran down the young woman's brow as her teeth clenched whilst she, ever so slowly, lifted her water buckets. This went on for several minutes. She then was instructed to lift her arms straight in front of her. That went on for just as much time as the previous arm position. The bucket handles had small wooden grips on them which hindered the metal from digging into the palms of one's hands, but after that amount of time, her hands still shuttered in pain.

"Alright, you may rest your arms to you side," Thanos told her.

She sighed in relief; dropping her hands beside her. They felt of jelly; limp and without muscle. After a minute he told her, "Now swing your buckets about, always completing a circuit with them; mirroring each other in movement." He added, "And do not spill a drop."

Myrina was so tired that she didn't mutter a word; she merely began swinging her pails; not truly knowing what she was doing. It didn't seem to matter that her head was not in it, because her limp arms weren't the driving force of her body's movements just then, it was the weight of the buckets that swung her arms about. She closed her eyes and allowed her limbs to cross in front of her and then pull around her body in an effortless dance.

"Your left arm will always follow through with your right arm, and vice versa with your left leading," Thanos began to explain, "Your swords will become like these buckets; one completing the other, when one moves one way, the other moves the other, but always as a unit, never independently." The man then added after a minute, "Eyes on your opponent now."

The girl barely had the time to open her eyes when he chucked another pinecone at her, but she was quick and blocked it with a bucket as it was completing its circuit. He speedily threw another one; Myrina lunged and swung the left bucket out in front of her where it knocked the cone far away; the right pail trailed behind her body in that movement. The woman smiled and rolled her buckets around her hands in front of her, in a fancy spin. He hurled another one at her whilst she took her little pride trip, but she still managed to thrust her arms up; stopping it. This continued on for about half an hour; taking short breaks to collect the pinecones back into the satchel. By the end of the exercise she had only been struck thrice by projectiles.

"Can I try this with the dowels again?" The girl asked, ready to fend herself from more of his attacks.

"No, and what did I say about questions?"

"You said, 'here is a swollen eye, Sera, via pinecone.'."

The man actually snorted a smirk at her comment. "We will continue with the sticks tomorrow and once I forge you some blades, you will use those."

"What about using those wooden training swords? Do you have any of those?"

"Rudes? No, I do not."

"How come?"

"Because I'm fucking retired!" He snapped, "Stop with your questions, or I'll throw rocks and dead farm mice at you instead of pinecones!" The girl shrunk under his shouting. She was quickly learning that anything to do with his past life as a doctoris was a topic to avoid. He then began packing up the supplies. "That's it for today," he grunted.

"But—"

"Horizon," Is all he said and pointed at the bluing sky with the sun beginning to peak.

"Has it really been three hours already?"

"You know, you have an amazing gift of making everything that falls out of your busy mouth into a question," He said sarcastically. "And no it has not; you were late in getting here this morning."

Myrina scrunched her face, "I was?"

Thanos sighed, "Bloody Neveious, she does it again!"

"Ignorance is formed when one does not ask questions. I am trying to learn here," She crossed her arms at him, "And you can leave this stuff be if you so desire. No one comes here anymore," She gestured to all the supplies that he was gathering. "See! Neither of those were questions!"

"All the awards to you," he muttered. "Put all the pinecones back into the satchel," The man then ordered her. She wordlessly took the bag and started filling it with the scattered cones. "You can put it with the other stuff when you are done," He said half-heartedly; walking away with his odd limp, back through the path to the main lot.

When she was done her task, she felt like falling over and sleeping right then and there, but she couldn't; she still had a full day's work ahead of her. Their deal was to train every day, which she wanted but now feared if she could physically do it.

It was going to be a long road ahead of her; that was for certain.


	6. Capitulum Sextum

Myrina ran as fast as she could, heavy armour on both her arms and legs. Thanos wanted her to train with hefty gear so that when she switched over to light armour, which she would wear in battle, it would feel practically weightless and not hinder her in movement. Her doctoris bombarded her with small blocks of wood when she passed by him. She either had to dodge them or block them with her two sica swords that Thanos forged for her. Her blades were forty knots in length and approximately three knots wide, with a slight curve in them. She didn't care for the blocks of wood upgrade from the previous pinecones. They were harder with sharp edges that sometimes broke skin. Over the past five weeks she had found so many bruises on her body from them, she was forced to wear her long winter toga on a daily basses, to cover her marks.

The young woman put up her blades, flat sides turned out, making the surface area of her shield greater, and blocked three projectiles whilst dodging the others. She whipped around and trotted backwards, making certain not to get hit on her rear whilst moving along and away from him. He threw only one block at her on her way out, where she had a little fun in batting it forcefully away into the trees.

She had been training for nearly a full two months now, taking only Cubitus, the sun god, Æthon's appointed day or worship and rest, off (which fell on every Sunday).

"Go to the trees!" Thanos hollered at her. She continued to run at the same pace while changing her heading to the two tethered trees. She jabbed her swords into the dirt next to one of the trunks and climbed the tree up to the rope. She did it quickly, knowing her foot holds all too well now. In nearly no time at all, the woman was hanging off the rope, making her way to the centre of it.

Thanos walked up to her and instructed, "You are going to do ten today," he instructed in reference to number of pull ups she was to do.

"Ten!" Myrina questioned, "But the most I have ever completed is six and a half."

"If you ever went through an entire lesson without so much as a single word spoken, I would have to refund you a gold coin just out of mere shock," The man muttered as he picked up her sicas.

"Honest truth?" She looked to him with intrigue.

"It does not matter whether I would or would not! You could not hold your tongue if Amōs himself asked you to do so." He pointed to her with one of the blades, "Now get on with it."

Myrina rolled her eyes before pulling her body up, proud in the fact that she could now do multiple pull ups. As she was slowly doing her exercises when Thanos placed her swords underneath her, blades pointed up, handles in the dirt. The brunette took notice and in panic asked, "What are you doing?"

"Incentive," he answered simply.

"Are you mad? I'm going to kill myself if I fall!"

"Well then, do not fall."

With great fear within her, she continued her repetitions. She had done five and was now pulling up her sixth. She could feel her arms shuddering, but she pushed herself and completed it along with two others.

"Two more," the man stated.

Myrina hung from the rope, hands beginning to slip. There was no way her grip would last long. She squeaked out an odd sound not knowing if it were intended to be the start of a word, or just a surge of some sort of strangled emotion. She glanced down at her two weapons that were now turned against her. She despised the feeling of something that was once hers; now intended to hurt her. Her words were her power, but as it always seemed to come to be, they too were taken away and now found themselves to be her enemy.

The woman took a deep breath; bit the inside of her cheek, swearing not to allow her blades to destroy her as she pulled herself up. Her body shook, but she seemed to have found a new restored strength in her hands. She gradually dropped herself down and took another breath, pulling herself up for the tenth time, but she wasn't done yet. She lowered herself and pulled up, yet again, repeating this until she had completed fourteen repetitions.

"Blades," was all the woman could mutter out after her last pull up. She glanced down to see that Thanos had already moved her swords off to the side, which allowed her the opportunity to give into her body's exhaustion; dropping like a dead weight to the ground.

Thanos took up her canteen, but instead of throwing it at her, as he normally had done, he walked over and put it into her hand. Myrina sat up in the dirt and drank; spilling a bit due to her shaky arms.

After a moment of rest, wordlessly she stood up and took her sicas, walking to the centre of the dried up pond. There she began going through the sword combinations that Thanos had taught her. She moved like her body was in a majestically graceful dance. Her quick, lanky, and flexible body allowed her to move like no other fighter really could. She lacked the strength, but made up for it in plenty with agility.

"Take up your sticks," Thanos ordered her after he had studied her movements for a while.

"How were my combinations?" Myrina asked him as she picked up her two training dowels.

"The thing about training to become a fighter is," he picked up a slightly longer wooden rod, "you know how you are progressing in skill by the number of cuts and bruises you count each night." He then lunged at her, stick swinging. Myrina easily blocked his attack with her own stick, though she could always feel the strength in his blows. Her hands would buzz in pain after each sparring match with him. He swung his stick repeatedly, where she blockaded all the attacks. "Stop fighting so defensively. Most of your opponents will have a single weapon. So when they strike, defend yourself with one sword, then attack with the other."

Myrina nodded; quickly shifting her combination lessons into practicality. Thanos swung his weapon arching, across and down-wards, where, this time, she stepped into the attack, blocking it with her left stick; then thrusting her right to his neck in a punching motion.

Her doctoris smirked before shoving her off, attacking her once again. They continued on like this for many a minutes, Myrina jousting him into several various kill positions each round. Thanos must have been satisfied for the time being for that he picked up a barrel lid that he had fastened a handle to. "You open yourself up when you go for many of your attack kills, making yourself vulnerable," he simply informed her.

"I am executing the combinations that you taught me," she defended herself.

"Yes, now execute them more cautiously," he said before attacking her again, now with a shield in hand. The brunette was alright in blocking his attacks, but was failing to find an opening to deliver a kill strike, with the newly presented shield in play. Finally, her eye caught sight on a possible opening to foray, but as she had only moved in half a body's length to deliver her blow, Thanos swung his shield and bashed her, throwing her off balance before he kicked her wobbly footing; sending her crashing down to the ground. He thrust his stick at her neck. "The bruise that will surely show up on your ass, soon enough, can be counted along with your others in your skill assessment tonight," he smiled at her with a wink before walking away. Without a word he threw down his sparing equipment and began to make his way towards the path, that lead back to the farm, in his awkward limp that we always seemed to move with.

"Where are you going?" Myrina sat up and called after, "The sun has not yet breached."

"It is Tuesday and I have yet to see my final gold piece from last week, not to mention, nought from this week's payment." He then turned to look at her, "We will maintain regular hours when you square us up."

Myrina growled underneath her breath as she watched him leave after only a two hour session. She was frustrated in the fact that she could not always take money when he wanted to be paid. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to embezzle as the funds grew less. It seemed that even the small copper and bronze coins were eyed closely on the farm those days.

As luck had it, two weeks later Elioud had sent Myrina along with a couple slaves to purchase a plough that she easily skimmed money off the top, from its purchasing price, and pocketed a chunk of change. Her Dominus was growing older and frailer as time went by. It was as if his health were linked with his dear farm; the drought seemed to be affecting them both equally. He was putting more responsibilities on Myrina within each passing year. He had trusted her with nearly everything business related from the purchasing of assets to the book balancing. His faith in her and her honesty was the thing that truly killed the young woman inside. She knew that the few coins she took here and there would not be responsible for bringing the farm down. No, it was the dreadful weather that would do that, but she was still the girl who was kicking her fair master, and his prized farm, when they were down and at their frailest moments.

When Myrina got back to the farm after buying the plough, she went to the office to lock up the cash, minus what she had stolen, filled out the books, and told her Dominus of their trip and how much she haggled for their new piece of equipment. Myrina was good at talking down any price, which was now to her own personal advantage. Whatever the difference in asking price to sale price, she pocketed.

When Myrina was done her duties in the main house she went to her own lodgings. She walked into her empty bedroom before kneeling on the floor. There she tilted her cot; pushing her stolen coins up into the hollowed out portion of her bed post, from beneath.

"I should not even enquire, should I?" Pêrô walked into the room.

Myrina awkwardly scampered up to her feat. "Wh-what? How do you mean? Enquire about what?" she fumbled out speedily.

"Wow," the woman smiled, "Never try your hand at Par Impar, your eyes give away all your secrets."

"I wasn't doing anything—"

"Love, it is all right," the elder woman interrupted her. "Whatever you were doing just then, underneath your bed, is none of my business. You do not have to add deceiving me on top of your already burdened conscience."

"Huh?" the brunette looked to her with confusion.

The woman smiled at her warmly before taking a seat on her own bed, "I know you are sneaking out early every morn, and hiding bodily welts. At first I was concerned of what you had gotten yourself into, but I now understand," she nodded then turned to her crate, which severed as a bedside table, before she scooped some lard out of a small tin; rubbing it on her hands as moisturiser.

"You understand?" Myrina repeated and cocked her head.

"Yes," she smiled. "Now, tell me about your day off the farm today? Remind me, which neighbours was it that you went to see to purchase the plough from again?"

Myrina shook her head, "Wait. Hasten not." She then studied the elder woman, "What do you mean by 'you understand now'? Did you follow me one morning or something of the nature?"

"I certainly did not! I would never betray your trust like that!" she answered in utter shock.

Myrina almost rolled her eyes before asking plainly, "You had Nikolas follow me, did you not?"

The woman sighed as if she were wracked in guilt, "…possibly," she answered, eyes downcast.

Myrina's face cracked into a smile. "And what did he report back to his domina," she teased the old man's loyalties towards her.

"He told me that you were assisting Thanos as he trained a young field slave to fight."

"A young –what? I mean, yes." Myrina nodded. Her quick mind made sense of what the woman had just told her and she knew, for both their sakes, that she had better just go along with it. "Yes, I sometimes join in with the training… that's how I acquire these bruises and such."

"And muscles," Pêrô added with a proud smile, "You have some arms there, puella," she winked.

"Really?" the girl smiled before flexing her muscles. The elder woman laughed and clapped, "You could arm wrestle a horse, with those beauties." Myrina couldn't help but giggle. She had not really noticed her exterior changing much during her training.

After the two had settled their light-humoured moods, Pêrô looked to her, "May I ask why you are helping them? Nik thinks that you are doing it for a little excitement in your life, but I wonder if it is not all because of a boy," she smiled like she knew something more.

"No!" Myrina practically screaked in a high pitched voice due to pure shock.

Her roommate burst out laughing, "Again, never play Par Impar…ever, never!"

"Alright, for one: I do not fancy anybody, and two: I have played Par Impar and I was good at it!"

"Uh huh," Pêrô hummed, "you played with Nik's friends, did you not?"

"Yes. So?"

"They let you win, love," she nodded, "Men do strange things for girls with pretty faces."

"Oh, pish posh," Myrina waved her comment off before heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Pêrô asked.

"Away from you," the brunette stuck out her tongue before exiting the room.

"And to your beloved suitor?" she added, calling out in a tease.

"Farewell Pêrô!" Myrina yelled before descending the stairs to leave the lodging house.

The brunette walked to the stables, finding Nikolas in a paddock bathing a muddy work horse.

"You told her I was assisting in Thanos's lessons, training a field slave?" she asked the man as she approached.

"That woman would be in a constant state of worry if I had told her the truth," he answered.

"Yes, I know. I think you did the right thing," Myrina agreed. The elderly man then picked up a bucket of water and, ever so carefully, poured it over the horse's feet, trying to conserve as much water as possible. Every resource was tight at the farm, especially water. "How about you?" Myrina questioned him, "Are you alright with me training with him?"

The man didn't stop his work as he responded, "Honestly? It scares the shit out of me." Myrina didn't know what to say, so instead she stood silently, wracking her brain as what to say to him. However, Nikolas turned to her before she could think up a response, and told her, "I never had children but, Sera; you are like a daughter to me. Just knowing that you are planning to fight in battles that are to the death makes my heart drop." Tears soon began to well up in Myrina's eyes. "I do not know exactly what you two are planning, or how much Dominus knows, it anything at all, but I trust you, and I believe in you." His soft grey eyes gazed into her own misty ones. A tear then escaped them where she wiped it away from her cheek. "And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you only need to ask me," he said sternly with meaning, "Do you understand?" The girl nodded her head, loving the man more than she ever had within that moment.

Nikolas then nodded and went back to washing the horse as Myrina pulled herself back together. "Do you want a hand with him?" she asked after a silent moment, pointing at the animal.

"Nah, you go read or something. Relax, you have far too much pressure on you these days," he walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Besides, you have to rest up during your transformation to greatest fighter to ever grace the Pugna arena," he smiled and winked. Myrina's face broke into a beautiful smile as she threw her arms around the old man. It was as if part of the weight on her shoulders had been lifted. Somehow having someone else know what she was up to seemed like a huge relief. It also made the situation feel more real to her. It was no longer just her and Thanos's little secret. Nikolas dropped his muddy rag and hugged her in return. They really were not allowed to physically interact like that, being male and female, but they did not much care within that moment. If they were caught, chances were that no one would really pay heed towards them anyway. "Now, go on," he turned her around and guided her off, "Have a break and enjoy yourself. I will see you at supper."

However, instead of the girl going to read, like she had loved to do, she ducked back and around the hay loft. There she entered the barn and climbed up the ladder onto the second story. The floor had only a few hay stacks from ground to ceiling due to their dwindling supplies. Normally it was packed full. Myrina had torn up a few hay stacks and disbursed them on the floor as padding a few weeks back. Now on the second floor, she turned about; targeting her bedding, made of feed, she bolted towards it. Before the wood floor became feed carpet, she jumped into the air, flipping in an aerial dive, but she didn't have enough time to get her feet underneath her body before she landed. She fell onto her side into the bedding.

"Curses," she growled whilst banging the hay around her. She was getting closer at landing on her feet, but she wasn't quite there yet. She was determined to be the most agile fighter out there, meaning that she would have to learn and perfect acrobatic skills. She wanted to surprise and impress Thanos with aerials and flips, but she still had yet to master them. She had made it ritual that every day before supper she would practice her tumbling.

She then stood up and paced as she ponder aloud, "Alright, so this is not working… I can do a cartwheel, which is like an aerial but with hands. And a cartwheel is like…" the girl then did a perfectly straight cartwheel on the cleared off floor area, "this," she landed it, "so all I need to do is get enough momentum to do that, but minus hands." She then backed up, but instead of aiming for the hay pile, she remained on the wooden floor. Taking in a breath, she did another cartwheel, but this time she dove into it, only placing her hands down on the floor for a split second before landing it. "Okay!" she laughed out. "I was making this way more complicated than it had to be." She then repeated what she had done, again only putting her hands down momentarily as her body was completely parallel with the ground. "So, it seems to be that my hips are the axis which my body rotates at… meaning, in order to allow my body the time to rotate completely, I need my hips higher, and my body to spin faster," she muttered to herself. "Oh dear," she sighed in realisation, "I must pull my arms in so that I can spin faster…don't I?"

She looked to her hay bedding, then to the wooden floor that she was currently standing upon. "Well, pointed blades of doom worked as incentive before…so I suppose, a hard wooden surface should work again… theoretically," she gulped. The girl then began to back up, "logically, this should work. Though, I have come to learn that logic and execution do not always come hand-in-hand." The girl sighed, "Well, here goes something." She broke into a short run before she leaped high into the air; pulling her arms in tight to her body, she spun gracefully before landing awkwardly onto her feet that soon gave away where she crashed to the ground; banging her knees hard. "Alright, ow, that hurt," she hissed in pain before laughing in realisation that she had executed her first aerial. "I did it! Landing was a bit queer, but I still did it!" she jumped up to her feet, "Ah!" she then winced out in pain yet again before she limped over to sit on a hay bail. Assessing her reddened knees that she knew would bruise in due time, she told herself, "one more go at it." She then growled in a sort of self-scolding, "That I will land!" She unclenched her jaw, "Then I am off to supper."

Myrina nodded her head in attempts of self-motivation before rising to her feet. In a slight hobble, she walked to the edge of her cleared floor area, and turned into the centre, ready to perfect her acrobatic skill, now truly knowing the feel of what it is supposed to be like. "Spread legs more in landing," was all she murmured to herself before she broke into a run. The brunette bounded into the air, even higher this time, and tumbled her body over in a complete rotation, landing perfectly steady on her feet. "Yes!" she thrust her fists in the air and jumped up and down, "I did it! Tomorrow, flips!" she cheered in excitement, though she was quite frightened as well, in learning a flip. It seemed a lot harder and more dangerous than the aerial. Regardless of her task for the next day, she left with a grin; arriving at the mess with satisfaction written on her face.


	7. Septimo Capite

Ten months after Myrina had landed her first aerial, she had become quite proficient in acrobatics. The young woman was swinging on the rope that was strung across the two training trees next to the dried up pond. She had taught herself how to swing full rotations around the tether, and could even do a two second vertical handstand on the line.

"Would you stop swinging about, and do your exercises?" Thanos said with a hint of humour detectable in his voice.

"I am exercising!" she answered while swinging up and on top of the rope, stalling in a brief handstand whilst switching hand positions; turning herself around so she faced the other direction before swinging back down. The man only huffed towards her where she giggled in return as she stopped swinging. She then speedily hooked her legs over the rope, now hanging up-side-down, before she began her crunches. The woman had developed quite the abdominal muscles over her year of training and could do an ample amount of sets. "So when we spar today, can you at least try to defeat me?" Myrina teased her doctoris.

"You would like me to knock your ass to the ground?" he looked to her hanging up-side-down, "all right. I will wipe your face in the dirt if you wish."

Myrina scrunched her face at him. "Double or naught!" She said whilst pulling her body up into a crunch.

"Double or naught, what?"

"This week's gold. If I win, I do not have to pay you. And if you win, you receive double in pay."

The man laughed at her, "You really believe yourself that great? That the gods themselves have touched you, and now you are invincible?"

The woman quickly un-hooked her legs from the rope and swung around it thrice before letting go, doing a complete flip in the air before landing it perfectly. "I do not think it, I know it!" she grinned at him.

"Take hold your sticks," Thanos said confidently; picking up his own dowel and make-shift shield, "You are playing with the men now, pupa"

The woman seized her training sticks. "Do not call me that!" she growled out before lunging at her doctoris. He blocked her attack, and fought back; swinging his weapon at her where she slashed with her sticks, like a mad fire, leaving no open spot to humanly penetrate, and reach her body. She was very quick in movement. Thanos was still the stronger of the two where he advanced her, pushing her back. "Arenas have walls," the doctoris grunted, "and you, my pupa, would be up against one."

Myrina grunted out in anger and frustration before she kicked Thanos's sword hand off to his side whilst throwing her own sticks away; up and over his head, where they landed behind the man. She then grabbed a hold of the top of her doctoris's shield, using it to flip over him. Landing on her feet; she rolled into a somersault whilst scooping up her weapons in one graceful movement. She then stood and spun around; attacking back, but the man had the time to turn as well, and meet her with a block countering her strike. "An extra four gold this week is certainly going to be nice, me thinks," Thanos smiled cheekily at her.

"Now who is the one that speaks as if they are gods'-favoured?" Myrina blocked a thrust from Thanos's weapon after dodging a swipe to her head.

"I am the arena champion!" he replied with a bash of his shield where she back flipped in avoidance.

"I understood it to be true that that man was dead?" she asked in shock towards his self-label of Laureola victor. Without words he had forbade the topic to ever come up between the two of them long ago.

"Well apparently, even a dead Pugna Fighter can destroy you in battle," he growled in anger, derived from himself or from her, she could not tell. He then charged her, arms swinging at full force. The look on his face frightened the young woman, like he was no longer her doctoris but instead, a true opponent that wished her dead. He swung his weapon fiercely at her where she blocked it, cringing in pain at the force he used. He struck again, faster and harder, she again, managed to protect herself but his strength and determination grew with the angered look on his face.

He was advancing her so quickly that she began stumbling backwards over the uneven earth beneath her feet. Stepping awkwardly into a rut, Myrina's arms went out slightly to balance herself, but in her actions she left herself unprotected where Thanos took no hesitation in thrusting his shield upon her torso, sending her flying to the ground.

Instead of her doctoris allowing her the time to get up after his brutal hit, he dove at her, weapon flying through air; about to hammer down on her neck, spearing it. The girl gasped for a split second before rolling over; stick missing her ear by a quarter knot. She got up to her feet, running a few steps away where she fell into a small coughing fit due to landing on her back so hard.

"Is this who you used to be?" Myrina hacked out in a cough.

"Wrong question!" he charged at her where she evaded his attack; spinning low to the ground, she delivered a hit to his knees. The man tripped only to do a one-armed dive roll with his shield hand, which quickly had him back on his feet.

"Wrong question?" Myrina asked while the two circled around each other like two hungry wolves ready to pounce the other.

"This is not about me," he shouted at her with passion, as they both heaved in breath.

Myrina looked into his intense eyes which gazed at her like she were prey. "Is this what I will become?"

"That's my clever rhetor," he growled whilst charging her again. When he was half a length away from her he halted; dropping his arms beside to his sides. Standing there open for attack, Myrina looked to him and shook her head, "Wha— what are you doing?"

"There is no purpose here. You will be dead after your first match," he said plainly.

"What?" The brunette blurted in shock.

"Your foot," he responded.

"What? What about my foot?"

"Look at it." The girl looked down at her foot in front of her, then back up to him in confusion. "Other foot." Myrina then gazed behind her at the foot that was lunged back. "As I approached, you stepped back."

"Yes, to stabilise myself from your advances."

"And that is why you will die once you enter the ring. You may possess skill that I have yet to see in the arena, but you will die because you never advance, you always defend."

"Wait, hasten not! You are communicating to me that I stepped in the wrong direction, therefor, my fate is death?"

The man turned around and walked away, his obscure, mysterious limp that he had used to walk with before, no longer there. "Yes," he nodded.

Myrina growled, grinding her teeth, "Prepare to defend yourself!" she ran at his back, but just as she was about to deliver her blow, she caught glimpse of something that made her drop her weapons in response. Thanos turned around, about to block her strike but then stopped too, when noticing her gawk. He then looked to where she was gazing upon. There at the threshold of the path that went to the farmyard, was the old stable hand hurrying towards them.

"Nikolas?" Myrina walked to him in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"Dominus is looking for you!"

"What? Why? The horizon has barely ignited in the morning's first light!" She spouted out in fright. Her gut felt tight like something was truly wrong.

"I am not sure," he shook his head, "but you must get back. Pêrô told Dominus that you were out on a morning walk and would return shortly."

Myrina nodded and fell into a full on sprint back to the farmhouse, making a quick stop at the path where she had always changed togas, making certain to not arose suspicion with her master. Her heart thudded, not so much due to her run, but from her nerves. She had been sneaking around and thieving for nearly a full year now, so anything out of the ordinary made her wary.

When the main house was in sight, she slowed down her pace to a fast walk until she reached the main entrance, and walked into the old building. She heard the faint sounds of clanging emanating from the nearby kitchen, the scullery servant's days would have been just starting then, but she did not see her dominus. Myrina walked upstairs to the library then to his office, but still, she could not locate him.

"He is awaiting in your study," the house matron informed her from the base of the stairs when Myrina was descending them back down. The brunette nodded to the older woman, whom she never really cared much for, and headed off to her office on the main floor.

When she arrived there, the door was already open, and Elioud sat behind her desk in her chair. Beside him stood Remus, a large dark coloured slave who was appointed wrangler of the field workers. He stood even taller than Thanos, biceps comparable to the giant's from the tails of the alleged Veneno Forest, which was located across the foggy seas. In all their years together at the farm, Myrina and Remus had barely interacted with one another. She was seen as an upper slave; educated, always clean, who often interacting with citizens. Remus, however, was a labourer that stayed within the company of the others like him.

Myrina fell still within the threshold of the door; her heart pounding in her throat. There were no obviously logical reasons for Remus to be there other than the fact that he often doubled as Dominus's muscle when need be. Her mind raced when she then saw the past few months' financial scrolls open and sprawled out atop her desk. Myrina's breath fell short as she began to panic. He knew. He had to know. Dominus had never entered her office, and he had also only looked over financial reports after she had presented them to him; never on his own accord did he seek them out. This all deduced without paying heed to the time of day that he sat within her study.

Her master calmly put his elbow on the table and folded his hands underneath his bearded chin; eyes glued on the numbers before him. Remus, however, stared her down like she was lesser than the stench that emanated from his own sweaty, hairy armpits.

"I had an interesting conversation with Sextus last night whilst I was in town," Elioud spoke up in an all too calm voice; not taking his sights from the scroll at the top of the pile. "I saw him at the pub where he enquired about the plough that we had bought from him a while back." Myrina's heart doubled in speed whilst she tried to swallow but was having a hard time of it. "He was pleased with you and your abilities of persuasion. He said that, even now, he is punishing himself for allowing his plough to be sold off so modestly." Elioud then raised his head to meet her gaze with a stern look. "The queer thing about what he said to me, was that I do not remember getting a deal for that piece of equipment." Looking her square in the eye he asked firmly, "Sera," he raised the scroll, facing it at her, whilst he stood up, "how much did you take?"

Myrina's eyes widened in complete panic, "I did not take anything. I must have made a clerical error or something of that matter."

"Sera, do not mistake me for a fool!" He barked whilst he threw down the parchment on her desk. "I spoke with several of the overseers, late last night, asking for their inventory numbers for the past few months. Strangely, when I compared them to the numbers here," he pointed angrily at the scrolls, "not one of them matched up." He then advanced her, coming around the desk. "I reiterate. How much did you take?"

"One hundred eighty-three gold," she blankly answered in a state of shock.

Elioud's face contorted, Myrina didn't register his expression until she caught glimpse of the back of his hand moving towards her own face. In sheer instinct, she raised her hand, with lightning quick speed, and caught his wrist in her strong grasp.

Dominus's eyes grew in shock as he looked to his captured limb in her hold. The brunette quickly released his arm, "I apologise—"

"How dare you!" He swung at her again with that same hand. This time she made certain not to defend herself as his open knuckles and silver rings bashed into the side of her face, so forcefully, that she had to take a step to the side in order not to fall over. For an old man, he still had strength like a mule.

Myrina brought her hand to her face, covering her split lip, as instant tears welled up in her eyes. She knew that this day would most likely come and this was not the first time that she had been struck. Since her training, a backhand was hardly the worst physical pain that she was privy to knowing. It was the disappointment from her dominus that killed her inside. He had been nothing but kind to her and she repaid him with this. She hated herself for what she had done to him and their farm, even though her brain reassured her actions with logic.

"Where is my money?" he barked out.

Myrina straightened herself and readjusted her jaw before answering, "It's gone," she said, eyes down cast.

"Remus!" is all Elioud said. The large labourer walked over to Myrina and grabbed her sternly by the arm, shoving her out the door, down the hallway and through the back entrance of the building.

Outside the brawny man pushed her hard; she fumbled out into the shaded area that was lined in dirt. The back of the building smelled of garbage, from the kitchen's disposals, and of piss, from urine pots that were poured out in one of the corners there. Remus faced her towards the barn that could be see far off in the distance.

"Sera," Elioud ordered from behind her, "disrobe." The woman took in a deep breath through her nose as she slowly slipped out of her toga, knowing that he must have been in possession of a whip within that moment. "Bloody Neveious, what has come of your body?" she heard the man mutter under his breath, knowing that he was referring to her giant bruises. "Kneel," he then instructed, not paying much more heed to her blemished body. Myrina then slowly stooped down to the earth as told. The ground was still very cool in the morning hour. A shiver pulsed through her body but she was fairly certain that it was due to fright and not the chilled dirt beneath her nude body. "Where is my money?" her dominus asked again firmly.

"It is gone," she repeated her same answer from before.

Whack, came the crack of a whip against the young woman's bare back. Myrina cried out and bit her bottom lip; her forehead digging into the dirt as she crunched her body in agony.

"Gone where?" He asked in the same demanding tone but now slightly out of breath. From that, she had concurred that it was Elioud not Remus that was flogging her from behind.

"Gone away," she said, not willing to disclose Thanos. She had made a deal with him and he had not betrayed her, so she would keep her mouth shut.

Whack, another strike fell across her body. She growled and bit down harder on her lip once again, soon tasting blood from her teeth cutting into it. "Away where?" he shouted in anger this time, breath falling heaver in his voice.

"Away!" Myrina spurted out in tears, "Gone forever!" She then spat out a wad of bloodied saliva before wiping her snot dripping nose with the back of her hand. The whip cracked on her back again, this time the tip hit the side of her head, flicking her ear. She screamed out as she cupped her lobe. She was certain that her ear was ripped off, but her fingers soon found that it was still intact on her head.

Whack, again another came, followed by two others across her back. "You stupid fucking girl!" Elioud yelled out in uncontrolled rage as he whipped her again and again. Myrina hugged her body as she cried out with each blow. She could have run away. She could have revealed Thanos, but she didn't. She would take her just punishment and hopefully live through it. Her dominus had full rights if he wished to execute her, but she prayed that he would punish her by other means.

After repeated cracks by the whip she could hear Elioud panting as if he were losing breath. Yet, still he went on striking her. Myrina was beginning to lose her sense of physicality as the beatings continued. She could feel continuous pain but didn't know when the whip was cracking skin anymore. She heard buzzing overtop of the hollowed out sound of her heavy breath inside of her ear-canals, which seemed to also have a heartbeat throbbing inside of them.

"Dominus!" Myrina heard Remus call out faintly through her own scattered senses, after an unknown amount of flogging had transpired.

After moment of recovery, Myrina noticed that the beatings had stopped. She found the strength to lift her head slightly and turn it, catching glimpses of Elioud holding his chest, heaving in Remus's arms as the large slave slowly lowered their master to the ground.

"Dominus!" screeched the house matron as she came running outside to Elioud's side, as well as two scullery slaves, one of them being Pêrô.

Myrina didn't know what was worse, seeing her master fighting for breath on the ground, or seeing Pêrô's gaze now upon her. The elderly woman, who loved her so dearly, had tears in her eyes as she began to shake. The young brunette locked gazes with her mother figure, where she too was shaking and crying. Pêrô had such fear in her eyes, she reminded her of when her own blood mother was scared for her and Marcus that dreadful day those eight years ago.

"Get that swine proditor out of my life for good," Elioud slurred and pointed towards her.

"No! Please!" Pêrô yelled, "Do not kill her! I beg of you, Dominus," she fell to her knees beside him, "Do not take her away from me," she cried.

"Be silent," he spoke to her, in still heaving breaths, "If the gods fate her to death, so be it, but it will not be by my hand nor my extended hand of Remus that will snuff it out."

The old master then nodded to the large field slave who went to the bloodied and battered Myrina, scooping her, along with her clothing, up; walking her to one of the farms carriages that were parked at the side of the farm house, already hitched up to two horses. She was pushed into the chariot where she shakily put her toga back on, wincing in pain towards the material falling across her torn up back, whilst she sat down next to the burly man. Her body throbbed with agony that she did not know until just then. Touched by the gods, she was not.

The carriage took off in a canter; Myrina turned her head to see Pêrô chasing after with heavy tears falling down her wrinkled cheeks.

Myrina called in a raspy voice, "I will be back for you." The girl tightened her jaw in meaning, "I swear it!" Then all too quickly, the old woman was left far behind in the dust.

As the carriage neared the gates of the property, the brunette whipped her sodden eyes when seeing Thanos standing next to the treeline, large satchel in hand. She knew that he was making a run for it just then. Her doctoris watched her as she was hauled away, to gods knows where. He raised his chin and gave her a nod with a smirk. As much as this seemed a bad thing, this is exactly what they had planned all along. She needed to make a new name for herself as a Pugna warrior, and she could not do that there as Sera the finance slave, she had to become someone else. She had to step up, be brave and fight for her freedom.


	8. Capitulum Octavum

Myrina sat sore in the passenger seat next to Remus, who drove them through and out of the dwindled forest, which surrounded the capital, that she remembered full and lush as a youth. The brunette forgot herself, however, when they broke from the treeline, revealing the great city of Philathymna; her long lost home.

The city looked the same as she remembered it, but she was no longer the same person looking upon it. She had grown and changed so much within that time that everything she knew from the past seemed to have another meaning to her. The majestic pillars that braced the Temple of Aequoreus, which sat atop the cliffs adjacent to the sea, still stood strong and powerful. They, along with the rest of the temple, had always been a beacon of strength in accordance to the power of the city itself. However, as Myrina looked upon the structure, her thoughts fell onto the slaves that mined the marble and carved the flying buttresses. To the young woman, their infamous temple was no longer a symbol of godly nor city power, but power of the slaves.

A gust of wind blew, tousling Myrina's already messy hair. She closed her eyes, inhaling the salty air which yielded a tear from her. She remembered sitting outside of her old home, on the terrace with her elder brother playing a round of Alea. It was a game that the two of them had made up. It was based on how long it took Myrina to catch Marcus cheating at the strategy game Vado. The young woman then smirked to herself, as they rode past the gates into the city, when finally realising that the only reason that they had made that game up, was because Marcus was probably tired of losing the actual game, Vado, to her all the time.

The woman then gazed around the bustling streets; the sun told her that it was nearly mid-day which was when the city was at its busiest. Her olive-green eyes began to sting a bit whilst her view blurred. It was only until she lifted her hands to her face, finding it wet, did she notice that she was crying. She wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath, cringing in pain when her back straightened, for that the movement pulled tight her abrasions.

Remus took them east, down near the harbour where most of the peasants lived and the shady businesses resided. Myrina had only been to this area of the city a few times in her life, therefor she hardly knew it at all. It was a pity that the area was so rough, for that it had the most splendid view. From the docs one could see the palace up and to their left, the Temple of Aequoreus up and to their right, and the arena, straight ahead, merely a few blocks up. She still could not see her old house, however. It was nearer to the palace, but not as high up on the cliffs. She knew where it lay, though, so she fixed her eyes on the buildings that blocked her view of it before closing her eyes; picturing it there in front of her.

The horses' hooves clacked against the tar streets, as the air turned from salty to something far more foul; human and animal excrement. Myrina scrunched her face; covering her nose with her hand. The sight of rubbish sprawled about the streets was a sight that she had not missed, living on a farm. Ramus then pulled up and halted the carriage next to a large grey brick building. Its red clay-shingled roof was rather cracked, discoloured and dirty. It was plain to see that it was an old building, probably one of the first that were put up when the city was built. It was possibly one of the old brewery houses by the looks of it; transformed into another establishment now.

Myrin's gaze fell to the sign that hung over the door of the building. It read, 'Port Salon'. The woman let out a deep sigh when her suspicions were verified; she was being sold to a brothel. She knew that brothels were illegal in the empire so the owners called their establishments 'salons' to stay out of legal entanglements.

"Let's move," Remus grunted whilst alighting from the carriage. Myrina complied straightaway and dropped herself down to the ground; stiff and sore from both the long ride, and her previous flogging.

Her robust escort walked to the door; Myrina, in tow, following behind. She didn't put up the slightest bit of a fight; she was too consumed in thought over what she was to do next. She knew that she had to prove herself a greater asset as a fighter than a prostitute.

Once they entered the building and her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Myrina's breath caught in her throat. She had felt immune to the notion of her actually becoming a sex-slave until her sights fell onto the spectacle before her.

Unlike the dilapidated exterior of the building, the interior was well kept with beautiful wood carved furnishings and cream padded loungers which all sat on a shiny light-coloured mosaic floor. White translucent curtains hung to the back of the giant hall of a room, where she could easily see silhouetted people performing in sexual acts. It was not them, however, that startled her. It was the large gathering of people lounging in chairs, located in the centre of the room, watching two adolescent girls fornicating. One girl had mounted the other from behind; plunging a phallus that was strapped onto her groin, into the bottom girl. They both screamed out in unconvincing pleasure. Some of the spectators seemed rather interested in them, others, instead, were much more enthralled with, either, the girl's, or the boy's, face that was in their lap. Myrina almost puked when she saw a little nude boy, probably no more than eight-years-old, lovingly kissing a man's hand, who was dressed in a royal soldier's uniform, whilst petting his penis, as if the boy were stroking a beloved pony that he loved to ride.

A young man that looked about her age walked up to them. He was nude, minus his sandals, with impressive abdominal muscles and brown eyes that were outlined in makeup. Myrina's eyes wandered down to his genitals, only to be ripped back up to his painted face in disgust towards the hairy, obscure looking anatomy. It wasn't the first time that she had seen a man's penis, but she still was fairly repulsed by the sight of them; glad that she didn't have one herself. "May I service you?" The man asked in a soft, almost feminine, voice.

"Ah, what? No!" Remus spat out in horror when realising the double entendre in the question. "I am here to see Sappheire," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "For business." He then realised what he had said and clarified abruptly, "No! Not business. I-I mean, yes business but not that sort of business, but business business."

The nude boy chuckled, "Too bad," he smiled, "I am rather spectacular at the other sort of business," he then winked at him. Normally, Myrina would have found the interaction between the two of them, amusing, but within that moment, the brunette barely took notice to Remus's lack of comfort. "Follow me, big boy," the man waved them hither as he turned and walked, "I shall bring you to her."

Remus and Myrina followed behind the male pornai who led them past both the bar, that was to the right of the main entrance, and the two wailing girls, then into the back; passing behind light curtains. They travelled down a linen hallway, passing a few sexually active beds, all compartmentalised with dividing curtains. Some rooms had heavy drapes, giving the clients privacy, and others were light-weight fabrics, giving little to no concealment.

They stopped at one of the closed heavy curtains where their guide, the young nude man, opened the curtains ever so slightly, revealing a small table in the corner. There he silently picked up a red glass shade from its surface and placed it over the single candle that lay next to it. The small room instantaneously shone soft pink in the action. In a flash, the curtains were closed again and the man clasped his hands and turned to them. Instead of the pornai giving them any further instruction, he just stood their playfully eyeing Remus.

"But it stings, Matron," a girl's voice was heard from inside the room. "I do not understand why it matters what colour my arse-hole is."

"Kleopatra, stop your whining and apply this stuff every day until you are dead. Understand me?" a more mature woman's voice emanated from the room in a demanding, yet not angered, tone. "No one wants to fuck an ass that is the colour of shit."

"That is where shit comes out from!" the girl pointed out in annoyance.

"Kleo, heed my words, we sell fantasy, not reality. Now go bleach your bum and get out of here," the woman said in almost amusement.

"Yes, Matron," the girl whined and opened the curtain right in front of them and frowned at the sight of the three standing there, overhearing their conversation.

Their nude guide then leaned into the clothed, dark-skinned girl with an attitude, and whispered, "I just let it tingle and burn while thinking about a giant flaming cock plunging inside my arse. Makes me cum every time."

"Eww," the girl spat, shoving him away, "you are disgusting!" and stormed off with a vial in her hand.

"Keyx," the woman from within the room said whilst waving him in.

"Matron," he bowed his head, "This man," he gestured to Remus, "is interested in a possible business arrangement with you." The trio walked into the room, where Keyx removed the red-glass shade from the light, placing it back where he had taken it from. Myrina assumed that the light-display was their equivalent to knocking on the door, but without disturbing business.

Remus bowed his head to the woman who looked to be in her early forties. She was beautiful with long dyed-copper hair and dark tanned skin. She stood up from previously leaning against a large desk. Myrina was confused by the room for that it looked like both an office and a bedroom, with the over-sized outmen opposite the desk and chairs. "Now, how may I help you?" she asked with no underlining emotion.

"I am assuming you to be Sappheire?" Remus asked.

"You assume correct," she nodded. "Who are you in asking?"

"I am Remus, property of Elioud, a farmer from past the forest. I learned of your establishment in the local tavern, near home."

"Let me guess," Sappheire interrupted him, "Your, Elioud, is suffering from the drought and is wanting to sell off his scullery-slaves, as whores for a little cash?" She nodded to Myrina. Remus kept silent where she studied him for a moment, like she was trying to figure him out, before she looked over to Myrina. The Matron then pursed her lips and spoke, "Solaris-Mico," she casually pointed to her, "take off your toga and let me see you."

Myrina was beginning to present numbed emotions towards the demands of undressing in front of strangers. She looked to Keyx who was still in the room, completely nude, and took what little comfort from that that she needed, and disrobed too.

"Eeesh," the matron hissed when seeing the red, bloodied lashes that came over her shoulders. "Turnabout for me, my sweet Solaris-Mico." Myrina complied and turned to present her beaten back to her. "What did you do? Eat your dominus's cake and get caught?" She went to her and gently placed her hand over her back; Myrina winced in pain. "Well I can't have her work until these close up," she directed her attention to Remus, "some may find scars to be a turn on, most will not, so I shall give you fifty gold for her."

"Fifty?" Remus spat out. "That is hardly worth my trip down here. I could have sold her to poor swine farmer for that."

"You should have thought upon that before you brought me damaged goods."

Remus added in hopes of bringing up her worth, "She is a virgin!"

"And how would you know that?" Sappheire eyed the burly man.

"Our dominus does not allow male/female interactions in that sense"

The girl was cut off, however, by the howls of laughter that came from both Sappheire and Keyx. "Oh, Solaris-Mico, you are so very adorable!" the matron laughed in glee towards her new funny-toy.

"I am as serious as the gods!" Myrina barked. "Either let me fight, or I will leave this place!"

"Oh, dearie," Sappherire sighed and whipped her teary-painted eyes, "You have nowhere to go, I own your cute, little ass."

"That is where you are wrong," Myrina said confidently, before she turned her head and began to walk out.

The matron sighed in both amusement and annoyance, "Keyx, apprehend her for me, will you not."

The fit man nodded before reaching for her at the door, but Myrina was quick. She turned and grabbing his wrist; bending it up whilst twisting his arm behind his back. She then positioned her leg up against his spine. With one mighty heave, she both kicking and pushing him into one of the fabric walls. He bodily flew into the neighbouring room.

"Hey! What the fuck?" came an angry man's hollers from the next room, where Keyx dropped in on top of their private sex-party.

Myrina wasted no time in hurrying out to the front area where the bar and exit lay.

"Stop her!" Sappheire hollered out from behind her. Myrina picked up her pace, but didn't run. Her plan was not to escape; it was to present her fighting skills. She remembered seeing a few solders in the main area, when she initially walked into the building, and wished to duel with them. Her thoughts then fell onto the, very real, possibility that the soldiers may just kill her in a fight; she was banking on Sappheire stopping them if it came to that.

Once she passed through the white hallway of drapery, she saw a solder sitting with his back to her, busy with Kleopatra's butt clamped around his face. Myrina, with great haste, unsheathed his sword and turned about, looking for anyone who opposed her.

The man, which she had just stolen from, stood up and turned to her, "Hey! Give me back my weapon you cunt!"

"A thousand apologies, Abrax," Sappheire said to the solder as she scurried into the room, "one of our new fillies here has spirit. It you, or any of your other fine comrades, wish to assist me in breaking her, you may have her, as well as unlimited drinks, until the sun has fallen and risen again, no charge."

An excited uproar was heard throughout the place. Myrina had to give credit to the matron, she was quick witted. Though, her fear soon bubbled back to the surface in realisation that when she had finished her fight, she was to be a pin cushion for a bunch of aroused men's genitalia.

Three other men slowly surrounded her, bearing swords. The forth, Abrax, held his dagger, wanting his weapon back from her. It was an odd sight; the three men with swords were not wearing cloths, and all had erect penises. It was definitely going to be a different experience than fighting Thanos at the farm.

She was soon surrounded by all four men with spectators rushing around them. Myrina kept light on her feet as she slowly turned about, keeping visuals on all of them. "Just give up, pupa, you are surrounded. Simply surrender and let me fuck you so hard and fierce, inside that beautiful mouth of yours," one of the naked, armed men laughed at her.

Myrina ground her teeth before lunging at him in anger towards his offensive words. He blocked her swinging sword, but she used her speed and agility to whip her body behind him; kneeing him hard in the groin. As the man collapsed slightly from the pain, she bodily elbowed him in the pressure point next to his collar bone; making him drop heavily to the ground. The crowd cheered, which threw the girl off guard. She had never experienced attention like that before and was a little confused in how to take it.

She then caught sight of Abrax with his dagger. Myrina laughed in amusement before she dropped her sword and ran at him. In one smooth back kick, her foot contacted with the dagger, sending it flying across the room. The spectators cheered which gave Myrina a sense of confidence that she never knew before. The woman then caught a punch aimed at her from Abrax where she used his arm to fling her body up-side-down only to scissor grab his neck between her thighs; flinging him down to the ground. The crowed up roared in cheers and laughter at the sight of the solder lying on the floor due to her.

Just as Myrina turned around to see to the others, they had already gained on her, grabbing her tight by the arms. She fought one of them off, but by that time, another man was on her, holding her secure; she was vastly outnumbered. Soon she stopped her struggles, knowing that she had to yield. This was the plan; she just hoped that she could live with its consequences.

Sappheire walked up to her, still incapacitated in her captors' holds, smugly, "Well, well, well, forget Solaris-Mico, from now on you will be known as, Flamma-Efferus." The crowd laughed in agreement.

"I want to fight!" Myrina demanded, slightly out of breath.

"Are you flippant?" the matron chuckled, "I would gamble that everyone in this room wants to fuck you now." She addressed the room where everyone cheered in concurrence with her assumption.

"I am not your whore!" She yelled with tears in her eyes. She hated herself for what she had just done. She should have never stolen from Elioud or trained with Thanos. This was all her fault. She had an agreeable life before and now it was going to be a living Neveious on Earth.

Sappheire looked her in the eye, "You will soon learn what you are, my new Flamma-Efferus." She then brought her attention onto the men that were restraining her, and nodded to them, "You may do with your winnings as you wish."

"Hasten not!" a young man in a neat toga holding a large leather satchel, who looked around Myrina's age, emerged out from the crowd. "I would like to purchase this slave from you."

"Antonis?" Sappheire said in utter shock. "You? You wish to purchase this here mess of a slave?"

"Na-ah!" one of the soldiers who was still holding her, spoke up, "She is ours!"

The other man to her other side punched him in the shoulder and whispered to him, "Shut the fuck up. You do not say that to Antonis. Do you not know who he is?" Myrina looked to the two men on either side of her, now really curious to whom this man who wants to buy her is.

"Sappheire," Antonis addressed her, "I can assure you that I am being completely sincere in my request. I would like to purchase this here slave, no concern to her cost."

The matron took her eyes off him; directing them on the men that held Myrina, "I promised you this pornai for the night, and I am a woman of my word, but, perhaps, I may offer you an alternative. Instead of her," she pointed to Myrina, "you may have free-rein tonight and couple with any pornai to whom you desire, until morning's first light." The men holding her, spared in no hesitation and nodded in agreement; letting go of Myrina's arms. "Splendid!" Sappheire smiled, "Drinks and the finest asses for these men!" Everyone cheered before disbursing into celebrations.

Myrina stood still in shock. She could hardly compute what had, and was still happening, to her. Both Antonis and Sappheire walked up to her, but kept their attention on each other. "Thank you Sappheire," The man took her hand and squeezed it in kindness and appreciation. "Now what do I owe you for her."

"Oh hush, Antonis," Sappheire smiled warmly at him, "you know your money holds no merits here." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, "She is yours. Gods only know why you want her, but, nevertheless, she is all yours." He nodded his head and kissed her hand before letting go of it.

The young man then turned to the curly haired brunette and extended his bent arm to her, like a gentleman; confusing the girl into a gawk. He let out a little chuckle towards her before looking down to his arm and nodding towards it; saying that it were alright to take. She looked upon his handsome face and into his suspiciously kind eyes. Deciding to trust him for the time being; she slid her arm through his. He then turned them towards the door and led them out of the brothel. The only thing he said to her, once they climbed aboard his carriage, was, "Now, let us go home, Myrina."


	9. Capitulum Nonum

Antonis drove his beautify oak crafted carriage; pulled by two handsomely speckled grey horses that looked fit to enter into a chariot race. They travelled southwest towards the wealthy part of the city, the area where she used to live those many years ago. Normally Myrina would have been excited to see if she could spot her house as they rode along, but she was too distracted by the mysterious man that had only just uttered out her birth name.

It had actually taken the woman a moment to realise that he had called her by name. It had been so very long in hearing it that she had forgotten it to be hers.

"You know me by name?" Myrina turned to her new dominus, asking in shock, "How?" She then examined him carefully, but still failed to recognise him. "Who are you?"

The man laughed in delight towards her, "Oh, why am I not astonished that you thwart slave expectations of ceasing to remain silent, and not query citizens whenever you personally see fit?"

"Yes, I never quite assimilated properly. I shall have to work on that," the brunette zipped out offhandedly.

"No, you have no need to work on it," Antonis smirked towards her, "You are free to act as you wish, from this day forwards. Well, hopefully without the combat fighting you seemed to have picked up since we met last."

Myrina eyed him suspiciously before questioning dryly, "Fine, I shall take you on your word and ask again. Who are you?"

He looked off the road towards her with a half amused, yet, still shocked, expression, "You truly do not know me?"

Myrina squinted and studied him harder before sighing, shaking her head, "I truly do not."

"Well, I was rather young when I saw you last… younger than you were, I was. You never really did pay much heed to me," he shrugged his shoulders. "I am Antonis, second born of Barsabbas. I am certain that you recollect my elder brother… "

"Hektor," Myrina remembered in almost a faint gasp of air, "I know your family," she muttered; suddenly lost in her past, "I never could forget the name Hektor, son of Barsabbas. Ever since I was a young girl, I knew him to be my appointed betrothed."

"Yes, I shall admit this to you now," Antonis cocked his head, wearing a cheeky smile, "I was always rather envious of my brother for that. I wanted to be the one to wed with you."

Myrina's mind raced. She was failing to emotionally connect with the man from her past. She knew that she should have been feeling something powerful in result of connecting with another who knew her back when she was a citizen, but she felt numb. She then realised that her body was still shuttering, like it had been back inside the brothel. The day was not cool, but she felt chilled to the bone as a cold sweat overtook her.

"What are you to do with me now?" Myrina ignored his flirtatious words, just wanting to know what was next for her. She was mentally prepared for the worst. She had not seen Antonis as her rescuer; she could not view him as such. If she did, and he had intended her for a worse fate, then her soul would have only crushed further.

The man halted the carriage, allowing another driver to cross their path. Scrunching his face in confusion, probably from her downtrodden tone and question, Antonis responded, "I am taking you back to my home."

"To be your slave," she stated.

"By the gods, no. You are to stay with me as my guest."

"A guest that you happen to own, and that can never leave?" the girl asked in a curiosity that overflowed in exasperation towards his notion of her being anything other than his property.

Antonis looked over his should to a carriage at his rear. Instead of starting their own ride, he waved for the man to go around them, which he did. Antonis then turned towards her in his seat, looking her in the eyes. "Our families were friends, our fathers served on the senate together; you were to marry with my brother," he bowed his head, keeping his gazed locked with hers, "as far as I am concerned, I have an obligation in honour of what our families used to be, to open my home to you."

"If I am merely an obligation to you, I would rather you put me to work as a slave in your residence," she said, not wanting to be anyone's pity guest.

"Venomous snake skins! You are impossibly prideful," he laughed with amusement before scrunching his face, "and slightly annoying too."

"Well I apologise for being sceptical," she said sarcastically.

"Yes, well, I suppose that I shall find it in my very big heart to forgive you," he said so matter-fact with a twinkle in his eyes, that a tingle of warmth touched her heart in amusement. She tried to ignore the feeling, however, by pressing on with her suspicions.

"If your heart is truly so very big, then why were you spending your time about in a brothel?"

The man shook his head with a sigh, "you are so very relentless," he whipped the reigns, starting the horses again up the street. "I was there conducting business."

"You were conduct business at a brothel?" She said in both surprise and repugnance, "Do you take pleasure with the slaves there?" she asked in disgust.

"I beg your pardon? I certainly do not!" he answered in pure shock; snapping his disapproving gaze towards her for asking such an inappropriate question. Even as a citizen, a woman did not hold the right to question a man in such a matter as that.

Myrina then thought on it a little longer, recalling how they interacted with him inside the establishment, "No, it must be yours. That really would be the only logical explanation. They treated you as if you were high and mighty in there, like you do own the place!" anger boiled up as she thought on how she was about to be raped inside the brothel, and if she were, it would have been due to Antonis and his establishment. "You are just a rich aristocrat whoring away young slaves, like me, as sex-toys to disgusting citizen men, are you not?" she ground her teeth before yelling, "How would your father feel about your business if he were still alive? He was a good man—"

The brunette's wrist was suddenly forcefully grasped, "You hold your tongue about my father!" Antonis shouted in her face. Myrina's eyes flew open in response to his reaction. However, the man's angered gape instantaneously softened when he saw her frightened expression and welled eyes. She was surprised in herself for nearly crying. Her subconscious emotions were beginning to bleed through and take over her body.

The man sighed before removing his hand from her, "I apologise, Myrina. I truly am sorry." His attention went back to the road, "only the gods know what you have gone through these past hours, days, Amōs almighty, even years! And here I am portraying myself without any consideration towards that." Myrina looked away from him, studying the street gutters as they road along; rubbing her, now freed, wrist with her opposite hand. "I do not own the brothel, I was seeing to an expecting pornai," Antonis calmly explained.

Myrina sniffled and wiped her eyes, "Expecting pornai…?" she scrunched her face in confusion for a brief moment before understanding, "Oh, expecting a child." The man smirked with a nod. "So you are a…"

"Physician." He finished for her. "Yes," Antonis continued, "or rather, I am an apprentice physician, schooled through the temple of Sanitas."

"You are a Sananis," she stated in understanding, "one of the goddesses healers," Myrina looked to him and gave him a weary lop-sided smirk. "Your father would have been proud of that," she told him in all sincerity.

Antonis turned his head with a smile, nodding in thanks towards her. The woman took in a deep breath and nodded back, trying to control a sudden case of nausea that had presented itself to her.

The man must have noticed her sickly state, for that the next thing that he said to her was, "We are nearly home. There, I shall dress your wounds before you may retire for the day and take rest."

Myrina only nodded her head and closed her eyes, trying to hold down her stomach's contents. They trotted along, now in her old neighbourhood, knowing it all too well. They soon passed by her old street; tears came instantaneously to her eyes, once again, when seeing her late house's balcony through the tops of the trees as they moved on by. She could not bear to ask Antonis about her home; if he knew who now resided within it presently.

When the carriage had reached its destination at a lovely home that looked similar to her old house, but larger, a stable-boy came out to take the horses' reigns. Antonis alighted the carriage then went around; helping Myrina down, before the boy brought the carriage to the barn. Antonis was quick to escort the trembling woman into his lovely cream white household.

"Welcome home, Dominus," an elderly woman smiled and bowed towards them, "We were not expecting you so early. Supper is not yet prepared." Myrina shot him a look of disapproval, not liking the fact that he owned slaves. She assumed from what she knew of Antonis's father, his sons would not participate in claiming ownership of other human beings.

"Oh, that is just fine, Daphne," Antonis said, "I had run into a dear old friend at the market today," he gestured towards Myrina, "and asked if she would like to stay with me as a guest. She was all too kind, and accepted my offer, allowing me the honour to host her." Daphne bowed her head towards Myrina which made the slave-girl feel extremely awkward and a little disgusted by the situation. Daphne was her; they were the same, yet Antonis had just denied this truth.

"Am I to make up the guest courters, or do you have other arrangements in mind?" the slave woman, who Myrina assumed the house matron, asked.

Myrina's eyes widened; glancing towards the man when realising that Daphne meant for her to bed with Antonis. "The guest courters please," the man bowed, making the girl sigh in relief. Daphne looked back to Myrina, squinting in suspicion towards her sweat drenched face and chattering teeth. The young brunette knew the elder woman to be with intelligence; just by the way she looked upon Myrina with great oddity.

The slave woman bowed and took her leave, ascending a majestically large stairway that curved up and to the right. Behind the stairs lay a half wall that ended midway to the second floor, leaving a beautiful view of the treetops that were to the rear of the home.

"Draw a bath too," Antonis added towards Daphne as she was half way up, "just in case." Wordlessly the woman changed directions and quickly walked back down the stairs. Myrina assumed to fetch her bath water.

Antonis turned to her, "Are you feeling well enough to take a bath now? If you have the strength to do so, then I shall get one of my girls, who will assist you in bathing, to clean your wounds when you are already in the water, then dress them afterwards." He took a moment in thought, "Aella is quite good with bandages. I shall send her to you, if you choose it."

An aggressive shutter ran through the girl's battered body. Never in her life had she have someone assist her in the bath, with exception of her mother when Myrina was a young child; their family did not keep slaves.

Myrina wanted to decline the bath, merely feeling uncomfortable with the citizen treatment that she would receive with it, but her trembling body craved to be warm, and she was not in the best of state to remain with Antonis. She did not know the man's true intentions and craved to not show weakness in front of him. Deciding to reacquaint herself with him the following day, after some much needed rest. "I could manage a bath now," not making eye contact with the man; she spoke steadily through her physical discomfort and pain. "Thank you," she continued stoically, though, she truly was appreciative towards him.

She could sense his eyes staring into the side of her face as she neglected him her gaze. She used what little energy she had, to straighten herself up, raise her chin and stop her chattering teeth; not wanting to appear as if she needed his assistance. "I think it best if I come examine you before you retire to bed for the day," he hummed in almost contemplation.

"No," Myrina blurted out before realising herself. "I- um- what I mean to say is: no thank you. I shall fair just fine," she forced a smile before awkwardly repeating, "thank you." She couldn't put her finger on what it was about Antonis, but there was something about him that she did not quite trust.

"Alright," he eyed her with a tight smile, "I shall escort you to your room then." Myrina nodded, allowing him to walk her up the stairs, where she breathed deeply as to not pass out. At one point she had to squeeze her eyes shut momentarily due to her eyesight blurring while climbing the steps. It was a short stroll down a brightly spacious upstairs hallway of mosaic tiles before they reached her suite.

Inside her room lay an oversized bed, fit for at least five grown men simultaneously, adorned with crisp white sheets. There were tables, dressers and a great wardrobe near the bed, that Myrina barely paid notice to. The one thing that caught her eye was the wash basin, adjacent the balcony, which was being filled with water from a large caldron by a man, that she did not know, and Daphne. The brunette was shocked that the house matron had beat them up to her room. Myrina must have been slower than she thought herself to be, whilst making her way to the upper floor. She hoped that the service stairs to her room where just quicker, and it was not solely due to her sluggishly injured pace.

"Abrion," Antonis called to the middle-aged man dumping the water, with a laugh, "Are you pouring our guest some soup?"

"No, Dominus," The slave smiled once he lowered the caldron to the ground with the house matron's assistance, "I was just about to add herbs to the water for tonight's stew when Daphne informed me that she was drawing a bath. So I just thought that I would donate my hot water," he shrugged.

"How very kind of you," Antonis chuckled, "I do hope that we will still have a stew tonight."

"I shall come back later to retrieve this water for supper. Worry not, Dominus, we shall still feast tonight," The man grinned cheekily where Antonis howled in laughter.

A young slave girl, around Myrina's age, then walked in with a large bucket, and too poured it into the bath. Daphne submerged her hand into the water and then told the young girl, "Another pail of cold should do it." The girl nodded before hurriedly leaving the room.

"That was Reah," Antonis gestured towards the girl that had only just left the room. "She will be your companion slave, Aella too." Antonis lead Myrina to sit at a small bench in the room. "I shall fetch Aella for you now, and instruct her as to how I would like your injuries cleaned and dressed." He then bowed his head, "I shall bid you adieu for the day, unless you further require me in any way. You must only tell one of your girls and they shall fetch me." He managed to catch her eye and smile in a way that could only be taken as friendly.

Myrina nodded blankly, "Adieu to you as well." He held his smile and left her room with Abrion the house cook.

Daphne had shortly left after both Reah and Aella had come into her room; soon helping her into the washing basin. Both her companion slaves were young like her. Aella was lanky with a large nose and frizzy blonde hair, where Reah was curvy with dark glowing skin. Normally Myrina would have quenched her curiosities about the girls with a slew of questions. Wanting to know how they were treated in the house, about their pasts, and their general desires in life, but this was not the time, nor was she in the right state of health to scrutinise. Instead she was mute the entire bath; numbly allowing the girls to clean her, dresser her in both bandages and nightwear, and walk her to bed where she lay on her stomach due to the painful lashes on her back.

Her mind was so foggy that she did not realise that the girls had tucked her under the sheets, until after they had left the room. The sun was still bright and pouring through the many windows of her room, yet she still closed her eyes, finding sleep almost instantaneously; her final conscious thoughts were on the last bed that she had laid in. It was nowhere near comparable to the one she found herself in now, and yet in its grandeur, it was nowhere as homey feeling either. This bed was built on a lie of pure discomfort.


	10. Caput X

When Myrina awoke, she took a moment before opening her eyes. She first felt the sensation of her neck, which was cranked to the side, sending a shooting pain straight up into her head. The girl rolled her forehead along her pillow, moaning into it when her face found itself completely buried in its silk case, which housed soft feathers within it. The aching in her long, delicate neck was nowhere comparable to the tight, stinging agony that her back and shoulders were experiencing.

After she had completely processed her bodily physical sensations, her head jerked up off her pillow; eyes flying open, in startle. She was confused as to where she was and why she felt as she had. The young woman looked about, shifting onto her side to get a better view of her surroundings; regretting it instantaneously when she yelped out in pain.

"Easy, My Lady," small coarse hands seized her by the forearms, helping her pop onto her knees, without putting any weight nor stress on her throbbing back.

The curly-haired brunette snapped her head to the side to see frizzy blonde locks falling over her shoulder, which then retreated away as Aella's face fell into focus. "Here, My Lady," The young slave-girl offered Myrina a goblet filled to the brim.

The shaky girl scanned her vicinity; now able to take in the full view. She quickly recollected the room and the slave girl that stood before her. Myrina then slowly, with shaky hands, reached out and took the presented drink into her grasp. She put it to her lips before pushing it away; scrunching her face at the toxic smell of it. "What is this?" she muttered in a raspy voice.

"It is one of Dominus's remedies," the slave girl explained, "wine with some herbs and philathymna tree extract too, me thinks. It should assist in dulling your discomfort."

"'Discomfort' would be quite a spoliation of word choice," Myrina mumbled as she wasted little more time in bringing the cup to her mouth; gulping it with appreciation. It tasted horridly and burned her tongue with its bitter root flavour, but she cared not. She only wished to ease her physical agony.

"Try sipping, My Lady, you will surely pass out if you drink like that!" Aella reached for the beverage, wanting to slow the other woman down. It was too late, however. Myrina had gulped it all down before the girl had the empty goblet back in her hands.

"Please, do not address me as such." Myrina exhaled with a belch, putting her weary hand to her mouth, wiping it with the back of her wrist in a sloppy manner.

"As what? My…" the girl stopped herself, not wanting to accidentally offend her.

"Yes that," Myrina groaned whilst rolling her neck in a sudden overwhelming of light headedness. "Do not call me 'My Lady'".

"What would you prefer then? Domina?" the girl suggested.

"No!" Myrina snapped with more anger and conviction than her body had energy for.

The young slave stammered in fright, "I- I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to offend you, nor disobey—"

"Stop. Stop." Myrina waved her rubbery arm at her. "You have not offended me, someone else has." The brunette knew that the girl didn't understand her reference in regards to Antonis, by the confusion in her face. "Just call me, Ser—" The girl then stopped, realising that she was now, no longer Sera, she was Myrina. However, she was not ready to be called by her given name, and her brain was too hazed to figure out anything clever, so she responded with, "Miss. Just call me Miss". Aella nodded in understanding.

Myrina's head was spinning from whatever exactly it was that she consumed in that drink, but she then realised that her body had woken her up, not because of her pain or her thirst, but because she had to urinate. The brunette slowly unbent her legs from beneath her, and slid them off the bed, to the ground, "I have to relieve myself." The slave girl was quick to take her by the forearm again, careful of her back, and help her to stand. Myrina's eye sight went black for a few seconds before the view of the room slowly came back in speckles of light.

"The chamber pot is just over here, Miss," the blonde pointed to the corner of the room, "I can bring it to you."

"I can take a few steps. I am not impotent," Myrina muttered whilst she hobbled the short distance to the clay pot on the floor. She then bent to her knees on the cool tile, hitched up her toga, wincing at the pain it made when the fabric shifted across her bandages, and shuffled over the pot to do her business. Myrina was so woozy that she cared not that Aella was still grasping her arm as she urinated, helping Myrina balance as well as, hold up her garment.

Aella aided Myrina back into bed where she lay on her stomach, once again. "How long was I asleep?" the brunette asked while she yawned.

"Umm… twenty-two hours or so."

"Amōs almighty," she slurred, sinking her heavy forehead into the pillow.

"I shall go fetch Antonis." The girl said, turning to leave.

"Why?" Was all Myrina could groan out.

"So he may examine you," she said as if it were simple logic, which in all reality, it was, even to Myrina. She just so very much wanted to approach Antonis for the second time fit and healthy; to show him that she was strong and could be entered into the Pugna arena. Though, after the other day when he respected all her wishes in regards to her evening retirement, she felt more comfortable by the thought of him examining her.

Myrina must have dozed off, for the next thing she knew, Antonis was sitting at her bedside speaking to her softly. "Myrina, I am going to slide down the sheets to your hips and lift your toga, alright? I need to see your wounds and change your dressings."

The young woman only grunted in understanding as he carefully exposed her back, from both clothing and bandages. She hissed when he pulled off the dressings. The pain had tripled from the day before, probably due to the numbness of her back when her sores were fresh.

After Antonis had finished with her back, he reached his hand to place it gently onto her forehead. "Hmm," he hummed, "a small fever has seemed to have settled in."

"I feel fine," Myrina lied horridly.

"You do understand that, being lashed by a drunken betrothed, serves you the right to not feel fine for a while, correct?"

"What?" Myrina cranked her neck to look at him in puzzlement. She then noticed both Aella and Reah standing nearby. One was holding a bowl of water, and the other was fumbling with her soiled dressings; wadding them up into a clean cloth for the laundry.

The man then nodded to her with a strong gaze that seemed to tell her that she was to play along with his charade, for her own good. Myrina said nothing, but instead placed her head back into her bedding. She knew he only meant good by it, but yet, she detested him for making her participate in the sham.

"Shall I be fit and ready by two weeks' time?" Myrina gargled through saliva that had only just presented itself. She slurped up her dribble only to find a wet patch already soaked into the linen beneath her mouth.

"And what, pray tell, is in two weeks' time that you must be fit and ready for?" He questioned.

"Licentia Pugna," She mumbled out; her head becoming more and more hazed by every moment that passed. She figured it due to the elixir she had consumed.

"That arena is being attacked by the rebels, more frequently with each passing year. Spectators are being killed by demonstrators in attempts for the fights to be shut down. It is no place for you to be."

"Who spoke of spectating?" Myrina yawned; eyes so heavy they closed. "I shall not be a spectator… though… a spectator would be rather safer…" she mumbled; slipping into a medicate slumber.

.

Nearly a full day later, Myrina had gotten out of bed. She had felt frail and sore, but adequate enough to walk the house and seek out her new host. She had first washed herself with a cloth and water that smelled of lavender. She sent Reah away when she tried to help her; this time she did not require anyone's assistance, which she quite preferred. Myrina was not one who liked the idea of being dependent on others.

After she finished bathing, she gazed into a beautifully detailed mirror with swirling leaf patters around it, which stood upright on the dresser. Myrina's skin looked grey and her hair was a colossal mess of frizzy curls which stood up on end. Seeing a small thong laying on the table with a hair brush next to it, she grabbed the tie, bounding her hair back into a ponytail. She then pinched her cheeks, to get some colour back into them; not for beauty reasons, but so that she may appear healthier than she actually was.

Exiting her room, she found Reah standing next to her door, awaiting her. "My apologies, but I have forgotten your name," Myrina looked to the olive-skinned slave-girl who was actually quite beautiful.

"Reah, Miss," the girl bowed.

"Oh, do not bow." Myrina waved her hand in disapproval, "Please," she smiled, "tread me as your equal."

"Equal, Miss?" the girl cocked her head in confusion.

"Yes, equal. We are just two people, without the masqueraded class boundaries, chatting as persons should."

The girl bowed again with a furrowed brown of confusion, "Yes, Miss." Myrina then pointed and glared at her, gesturing to her curtsy and her disapproval towards it. "Right, sorry, Miss," the girl blurted out in shame.

Myrina giggled softly towards her, "You really do not understand this concept." The slave-girl blankly looked at her. "Nevertheless, is Antonis here? I desire to seek an audience with him," Myrina pushed to business.

"Yes, Miss. He arrived for the day, not just a half hour ago. I am to take you to see him; he wishes to share supper with you on the patio."

The girl gestured with her head for Myrina to follow her down the hall to the the end, where the outer atrium lay. The sun was low in the sky; she assumed they only had a couple more hours of daylight left. When the bright, warm sunshine hit her face as she walked outside, she closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air which was mixed with the nearby hyacinth blooms in the garden. The sent was exactly how she remembered her mother's garden smelling in the spring, which yielded in a single tear marrying its way down her cheek, as a small sad smile broke on her face.

"Myrina," Antonis rose to his feet from previously sitting on a cushion, at a low table, on the ground. "Come join me," He smiled warmly to her, gesturing for her to sit across from him, which she did. "How do you feel?" he asked whilst pouring her some tea.

Myrina scrunched her face and cocked her head in response to the action of him serving her. She did not understand him, he held slaves, yet he did not call one over to pour her tea, he did it himself. "I feel quite well, thank you." She exaggerated her improving health.

"I am truly grateful to hear you say this," his eyes twinkled towards her. A middle-aged man then entered with bowls of soup in hand. "Thank you, Ben," Antonis smiled and nodded to the slave-man who served them. "I thought a light meal would serve you best whilst you recover," Antonis said to her.

"Oh, ah-yes, thank you." She smiled awkwardly. The man then began to eat where she only watched him, trying to get a read of him. He happened a glance towards her, where she shifted her eyes down at her own food, in embarrassment for staring. She then dunked her spoon into the broth that smelt of mushroom, stirring it first before taking a sip. She had not realised her hunger until the food reached her stomach, where she proceeded in polishing off her bowl with great speed.

Antonis chuckled at her, "You unquestionably were hungry. Here," he passed her a piece of flat-bread, to dip into a small saucer filled with salt and oil, "this should sustain you a bit better." The woman took it and thanked him; ripping off a piece eating it plain.

Antonis then looked about, as if to make certain that they were alone. He then reached beside him, pulling a sheathed dagger; presenting it to her. Myrina almost chocked on her food when her gaze fell upon it. It was her father's blade. She shook her head in disbelief as she muttered, "But how…? Where did you get this?"

"Your family's home and all its possessions where sold off those many years ago. I found your father's dagger at a Romani-stand, a few months afterwards; recognising it by your family's crest on its handle." The man ran his finger over that said emblem. "I was certain that the merchant did not know of whose blade he held. So, I purchased it. Who knows, by the rumours that have spread, making out that your father is well alive and the rebel leader, I had only just bought a great investment," he smiled where Myrina showed a face of disgusts towards his word choice. "I was only teasing, I am sorry. That was rather insensitive of me." He shifted in his seat, "No, my true motivations behind buying it, was to hold onto a great family's memory." He held her gaze, smiling as he added, "However, with the Marcus family here with me now, I do not need this. This belongs to you, Myrina." He said while handing over the dagger. She took it, turning it over in her hands, allowing a tear to run down her face before wiping it away.

"Thank you," she mumbled in all sincerity, not taking her eyes off of it. After gliding her digits across her family crest, the one that she had not seen in all those years, she took in a deep breath, putting her blade beside her as she gathered up the courage to ask about her future.

She hesitated at first; not knowing what to call Antonis. She didn't want to call him by name, because that would only be buying into his ruse, of her being in the same social class as he. Instead she decided to not address him by any title or name. "I would like to ask you a very grave favour."

Antonis perked up in hearing her words, "A 'grave favour'? I shall hear it. What is it that you wish of me?"

Myrina swallowed hard, before requesting in a sturdy tone, trying to convey her inner strength, "I wish for you to enter me into the preliminaries for Licentia Pugna."

"What is it with you and Pugna?" The man shook his head like she were the most unbelievable person he's ever met, "You were deep in Pugna when we encountered one another, just two days past."

"I was fighting for my own safety," she rebutted.

"No, you put yourself into harm, once you started with your violence."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked in great offense. "No, you are correct, my mistake. Only right before I started mindlessly brawling with those delightful solders in that lovely establishment, were we about to sit down for a spot of tea," she spat out sarcastically.

"I did not mean it like that," he shot back, "It is only that I wished to convey that pugna is no place for a lady."

"I am no lady!" she shouted in annoyance, despising the way he pushed fake citizen class on her.

"Well obviously not!" he countered, matching both her volume and intensity. Myrina gasped in offense towards his words before looking away, trying to conceal her anger and hurt. The man growled, "You are impossible! You make me say these words, as if you personally put them inside of my mouth, and then when I do speak these said words of yours, you get offended!"

"That is ridiculous," Myrina huffed in a much quieter tone. She picked up her bread; ripping it in a sad attempt of getting out her frustrations.

Antonis took a sip of his wine; too trying to ease his excitements. After a calming moment, Antonis spoke up in a level voice, "Why are you wanting, so badly, to enter Licentia Pugna? You can have a good life here, with me, I can guarantee it. No one will know of your past as a slave, we will give you a new heritage. You were young when you last were Myrina, daughter of Marcus III; no one will recognise you as she."

"You did," The girl said heavy with attitude.

"Only due to my school-boy crush on you," he smiled warmly towards her, as he always seemed to do, no matter how angered she made him prior to the smile. "Men never forget that first girl who made them presume that they had been poisoned, due to their sporadic stomach aches that only occurred when they were around them." Myrina eyed him questionably. "Me thinks this is due to the suspicions we held towards the girl, convinced that it were she, personally, who had slipped us the toxic elixir."

"Men are so cynical towards women. They think us some great mystery whose sole purpose in life; to tarnish them," she rolled her eyes.

Antonis laughed with delight towards her words, "This, from the mouth of the woman who wishes to compete in hand-to-hand combat with men, in an arena, to gain what has already been offered to her, right now, from me."

"Yes, you truly do not understand," she sighed, "But this lack of comprehension is not due to my mysterious ways."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"No. It is because you fail to see things through another's perspective. This is not a fault of a woman, but one of a man."

"Alright then, Myrina," Antonis leaned forwards, resting his arms on the table, "Tell me of what perspective I should be seeing through."

"The perspective of a slave."

"And that would be…?"

"Mine. My perspective as a slave. I take great appreciation in your hospitality, but I must fight. I must triumph, and I must try to change this broken society in which we live in."

"You really think that you, becoming slaughtered by uneducated, slave-men in public, is going to help change our world for the better?"

"Whether I die or whether I prevail, I must at least try. My father believed in change, so did yours!"

"Yes, changes for slave freedoms, freedoms gained by not fighting. You would only be playing into the system if you entered Licentia Pugna."

"It is not only change for slaves our fathers strived for, but equality of all. I know I cannot make the empire free the slaves, but I may be able to thrust respect onto women; giving them a sense of empowerment!"

"You actually want to die, just for a few extra cheers from the women in the crowd?"

"What? No—"

"Well, that is all it would be."

"You have no faith in me, nor others who are unlike you."

"No, you have no grasp of reality. You must stop these frivolous dreams; they are surely to end in your demise. Besides, a woman would never be allowed to fight, therefor, discussion terminated."

Before Myrina could rebut him, Daphne hurried onto the patio. "Dominus, there has been an attack by the rebels on Senator Zoticus in the midtown market. He requires emergency medical assistance."

Antonis sprang to his feet, "What happened?"

"Hot oil was dumped over him."

Myrina winced at the image that the house matrons words created in her mind.

"Do we know anything in addition?" the young physician asked as he made his way to the door.

"No," Daphne answered.

Antonis then turned to Myrina, before sprinting back inside the house with Daphne, "Your girls will see to you. Remember, this is your house now, so feel free to make the best of it."

Myrina bit into her flat-bread, dramatically ripping it with her teeth, after he had left. She had only sat alone for a few minutes before both her hand-maidens had entered the garden. But within that amount of time, she had come to the conclusion that Antonis was only another obstacle for her to overcome. He did not see the big picture as she had, so she only had one choice; work behind his back. She would need to acquire: armour, two sica swords, and Antonis's seal, in order to forge a letter of permission from him to enter her into the freedom battles.

"Would you like any more food, Miss?" Aella asked her when they entered.

Myrina looked up before turning the question on them, "Would you like some food, girls?" They both turned their heads to each other in confusion. "Did you two eat yet?" The curly haired woman continued with her questioning. Again they looked at each other, shaking their heads whilst looking back to Myrina.

"Good," Myrina smiled, "Come sit with me and eat."

The girls timidly sat down next to her, where Myrina practically had to shove the food in their mouths; to make them break slave-customs of never eating with a citizen, not that she was one herself.

"Now, girls," Myrina started, with a plan in full force, "I wish to surprise Antonis with a host gift, but unfortunately I am without coin due to my…situation."

"Dominus has left you money," Aella spoke up through the half chewed bread in her mouth.

"Yes?" Myrina's eyes gleamed with excitement.

Reah took over, "Yes, Daphne has your week's allowance. You only need ask her for it."

"Well, here is the idea," Myrina smiled, "can you two keep a secret? I do not wish this surprise getting out."

"Yes, of course we can," said Aella.

"Dominus has given us strict instruction that we are now yours." The olive-skinned girl explained, "Our obligations are to you first."

Myrina's smile turned into a full grin, in hearing this. Not that she condoned the notion of having her own slaves, but because, in reality a slave owned by a slave is not a slave at all. She would allow her girls their freedoms as they unknowingly assisted her with her plans. "By chance, do either of you know where one would go to acquire a couple respectable swords and some armour?"

The girls looked to her, then to each other, and then back, before answering in unison, "Yes." with puzzled looks on their faces.

Myrina smirked, biting her lip before saying with triumph, "Excellent. Tomorrow, we go shopping."


	11. Caput XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited by: cimbetau

That very next day, Reah and Aella brought Myrina to the royal blacksmith himself. Supposedly there were perks of being a guest of a physician and younger sibling of a senate bound brother, which Hektor was, according to her girls.

Both Reah and Aella shared their dislike of Hektor, in subtle ways; informing her that he was a radical theist who believed in the hierarchical social system: The gods being at the top, followed by citizen men, citizen women and children, then finally; slaves. If this system were to come crashing down, the gods would become infuriated and take their wrath out on the city, according to these fundamentalists.

Out of all the misfortunes in Myrina's life, she counted the fact that she did not wed with Hektor as a great victory, once hearing this information; the man's values disgusted her.

Myrina entered the smith shop; quickly shutting her eyes as a head rush overcame her when she was forced to duck under a low hanging shield at the doorway. The woman pulled at her garment that was sticking to her heavily perspiring body; the hot day was taking its toll on the recovering woman.

An elder man of short stature, looked up from a bucket that he was attaching a handle to, upon hearing her entrance. "Ah," he smiled, "you must be, Lady Myrina, I presume?"

"I am," she nodded, "and I am pleased to hear that you received the notice of my arrival today."

"That messenger lad had very little information about the visit though."

"Ah, yes," She approached closer, "I require light armour consisting of; a breastplate with small, unrestricting shoulder guards, two vambraces… small in circumference-size, greaves, again, very light for good movement of the legs, a helmet with a full face shield, and finally; two sica swords." Myrina finished listing off her order to the smith.

"With all due respect, My Lady, if you wish for light armour, may I suggest omitting the shoulders on the breast plate?" The elder man asked, as his apprentice smith moved about behind him, clanking away at a heated, malleable sword.

Myrina knew that the man was right, but she required as much coverage as she could; she was planning on fighting with the false pretence that she were a man. She hoped after proving her worth in the arena, she would be respected enough to be allowed to fight in Licentia Pugna, after being discovered as female. "No, shoulders stay," Myrina nodded sternly.

The man bowed in compliance before stating, "I need to know the exact sizes for all of this here."

"Very well," The woman checked to see that both Reah and Aella were still outside, awaiting her like she asked. She did not wish to bring up their suspicions unnecessarily, "The young man I am gifting is approximately the same size as I. You may use me for measurements."

The man smirked, probably at the notion of him being able to approach her with such close proximity. He then handed her various pieces of armour that he had in his shop, for her to try on for size. The young woman winced in great agony as she slid on her breastplate; the metal chafing against her scabbed over wounds. After seeing how they all fit, exchanging parts here and there, making mental notes of what fit and what needed minor adjustments, he nodded, "I will have something for ya in three weeks' time. Two-hundred gold for the armour."

"Two-hundred?" the woman spat out in shock, realising that she way underestimated what a suit of armour would cost, as well as how long it took to smith one.

"Yes, and twenty each for the swords."

"Each?" Myrina gasped in the same manner.

"This is not some peasant smith here, your blades will be perfectly weighted, and so sharp that they will be able to slice a man's neck clean in half without him even knowing he's dead. It won't be till he goes for a step that he'll notice his head isn't following in line with his body; it's falling down to the dirt."

Myrina only half listened to his sales pitch as her head ran over the time period and cost of her supplies. Antonis had provided her with one-hundred-fifty gold and twenty silver for her start-up allowance; wanting her to purchase clothing, jewellery, and perfumes, to reinvent herself as a lady, not buy a carrier-soldier's livelihood. She could probably talk him into a little more, but she feared the questions that he would ask in return for the extra currency. She looked about at the armour she had just had on and then asked, "These pieces I just tried on here, what is to become of them?"

"Ah, they are for the centurions. These are mostly old pieces from retired or fallen soldiers; we just fix em up and give it to the lads that happen to fit em."

"How much?"

The man cocked his head, "How much, what?"

"How much to purchase these old mixed-matched parts?"

"Well, not all these fit ya right. If that boy of yours is really the same size as you, they shant fit him neither. Not to mention, that breast plate that fit ya is medium-weight, not light."

Myrina thought over this information but realised that it was really the only option she had. "That is my concern then. How much?"

"Aye," the man scratched his neck before sucking in a breath of air through his pursed lips as he contemplated, "I say about… eh, one-hundred gold."

"I'll give you eighty-five," Myrina offered, knowing that she was on a tight budget, and would rather spend her money on her blades.

"How 'bout this, since I am so nice and want to help a beautiful lady out, I'll sell it to ya for ninety."

The brunette then smirked in amusement, "Well, I am so very glad to hear that you are such a nice man, but that was not a malleable offer." She approached closer to him with purpose, "eighty-five gold," she locked her gaze with his; refusing to back down.

The man held her stare for a long moment before bursting out into laughter, "Aye, Aye, you drive a tough bargain. Yes, yes, ya shall have these abandoned set pieces as your own for eighty-five."

The woman smiled and bowed her head in great appreciation, "I thank you."

The man glowed as if he expected her to give him a kiss of gratitude, "Now, about your swords. You wanting one out of our cupboard too?" he asked in a more cynical tone. "We do not got any sicas."

"No, no, I would like those blades that you promised," she smirked in entertainment, "the ones that slaughter without the deceased's notice of his own death." She used all her willpower to not roll her eyes as she referenced his previous words.

"That comes out to one twenty-five gold payment," the man figured. Myrina nodded in agreement. "Would you like your armour now, or later when your blades are ready?"

"Later."

"Alright, they shall be ready in about two weeks' time. You may pay me then."

"I require them in ten days' time." The brunette said, almost letting a bit of panic out in her voice; scared that she would not have what she needed by the time the preliminary battles began.

"I will try. But, I may not guarantee it. Our loyalty falls first to the soldier of the empire."

Myrina cared not for the soldiers nor the man's loyalties to them. "An extra gold for your promptness." the girl attempted to throw money at the problematic situation, like she had seen the nobles do her whole life.

The man then smiled mischievously before suggesting, "How about a kiss from the lovely lady for my promptness?"

"Very well, who shall I be kissing? The mule in the back, perhaps?" Myrina could not help her disapproving words towards the old smith.

The man only laughed out in reply, "Oh you are a cheeky one! I'll be sure to have your blades ready for you in ten days' time. If not to keep my businesses reputation, than to only rush the time in which I may see you and again." Myrina actually smirked at him in hearing that. He reminded her of an old innocent grandfather, who genuinely cared but was still as horny as a teenaged boy for the young girls.

Myrina bowed her head, "Until we meet again, then."

"Yes, until then," he bowed with a smile before she left the shop.

"I require tunics," Myrina said after exiting the building, to her girls.

"There is a lovely linen shop nearby," Aella informed her.

"Good, good, I will need a couple that will suffice for wearing under this armour that I have just ordered."

"Yes, Miss. This shop should meet those requirements." Aella reinforced her suggestion.

"Are there stolas there as well?" Myrina asked in referring to women's togas.

"Yes, Miss," Aella nodded.

"Wonderful, I want the each of you to pick out the finest garment you can find, for yourselves," she smiled at them. "If I am to traipse about in these fine linens, so should you," she linked both her arms with her girls, truly wanting them to have citizen treatment, not only because she had it herself for the time being, but because they deserved it, in her opinion, everyone deserved it. The girls then flashed grins of excitement.

The two slave-girls then led the way to the shop, where Myrina pondered on how she would get her hands onto Antonis's seal. She had already figured that she would use outings, such as shopping trips and visits to the bathhouse, as excuses for her absence when she was fighting battles, but she still needed her Dominus's permission in order to enter into the arena. If he would not give it verbally, she would require his monogram and a forged letter of consent in writing.

"What does Antonis's family crest look like again?" Myrina asked the girls as nonchalantly as she could. "I am entertaining the idea of getting his house symbol embroidered on his tunic. Do you think I could borrow a seal of his or something of that manner to use as a template?"

Reah answered, "Antonis only has his one ring with the family crest on it... well, that we know of that is. He wears it at all times. However, he does have a shield with the house emblem on it hanging in the foyer."

"Oh," Myrina tried to sound hopeful as she dropped her head in disappointment; it was going to be harder than she thought. She looked to her feet which happened to be walking through a semi-dried up mud puddle on the street. She then brought her focus back up in curiosity; gazing upon the small mud patches with various sandal-prints through them imprinted all about the street. A smirk then brimmed on her face when an idea popped inecto mind. "I wish to buy clay."

"Clay, Miss?" Reah scrunched her brow. "I am certain that there are pottery shops about this area."

"Lovely," Myrina smiled. Now all she needed was to think up an excuse for Antonis to write and monogram a letter for her, so that she may impression the stamp to make her own seal to forge her own destiny.

 

________________________________________________________________~oOo~_________________________________________________________________

"Why is it that you keep slaves?" Myrina peered over her wine goblet, that evening, at Antonis.

The man cocked his head; stirring the pork, that he had just bitten off, in his mouth before swallowing, "Many people of wealth keep slaves."

"Yes, I realise this," The girls eyes widened as if they wanted to roll, in regards to his simplified statement. "How I intended the enquiry to mean was," she took a single second to find her words before restating her question, "Your father. Our fathers" she specified further, "were both on the side of the people; wanting to abolish slavery. Yet here you are, keeping slaves."

The man studied her, as if he was intrigued, yet, he did not voice it. He then straitened his posture, and took a leisurely sip of wine before responding. "Am I not merciful towards my slaves?"

"What I have seen thus far? Very," Myrina answered straight.

"Are others as kindly to their slaves as I am?"

"Of course not. The majority of slaves are ill-treated in this province."

"Yes, so is it not better that my slaves are comfortable here, and not victimised out there?" he gestured to the city, from off the outdoor veranda in which they sat on.

"It matters not how well you treat them, they are without freedom, therefore, no matter the angle you choose to see it, they will always be the victim." Myrina spoke strongly with purpose and a hint of anger; not appreciating the 'saviour' title he had self-proclaimed himself with.

"My conscious is clean, Myrina." The man shook his head in displeasure towards her near-accusations of him and his actions. "Only the gods may judge me at this point."

"I would trust a man's judgment over the gods' if I were you. Man is far less greedy, envious, and vengeful." Myrina muttered under her breath.

The man then laughed with delight towards her, taking her words as humour instead of an insult. "The gods are not all as you say. Now come," he took up her cup and poured her more wine, topping her up, "let us not talk of such. Politics was never my forte in any occasion."

Myrina thought it best to follow his request and change subjects; not wanting to get on his bad side. She still required him to like her, in order for him to allow her to fight once he knew her truth. If he did not approve of her, he had every means within his power to have her executed for entering Licentia Pugna without his permission.

"Yes, of course," Myrina looked to him with a pleasant smile; mentally telling herself to bite her tongue and, for once in her life, not say everything that came to mind. "I went to the bathhouse today," she lied; shrugging her shoulders uncaringly, making unspecific gestures like she has seen Pêrô do when flirting with Nikolas.

"How did you find it?" the man delightfully accepted the topic change.

"It was fine, I suppose. There were an awful lot of leaves in the pool though. I suppose with all the surrounding trees, you could only suspect as much." She brushed her finger over her chin before poking her plump bottom lip with her index finger; gazing off into the distance, waiting to reel him in.

"Surrounding trees—" his eyes widened as she gazed back at him, "You were in the common bath. The one outside." He said with shock.

"Well yes, of course I was," she said as innocently as she could, "The inner baths are for the nobles."

"Amōs almighty, I shall write you a letter of identification for the next time you go. You not need to bathe with the commoners." He smiled at her, "you are my noble lady now." Myrina's face lit up with a sparkling grin. Not due to the false title and possession he inflicted on her, but because of the letter that would undoubtedly be stamped with his seal; the seal in which she could impression.

"Oh, wow, thank you." she giggled, where he only gleamed in reply; thinking himself worthy of her appreciations.

"You are very welcome, my sweet," he reached over and brushed a stray curl behind her ear. She instantaneously stiffened her body to the gesture; laughing nervously in reply. 'No, this is a good thing', she told herself. She needed for him to fancy her in any way possible. If she stayed on like this, she would certainly be closer on the path to becoming a Licentia Pugna fighter.

So she shrugged her shoulders and giggled away, trying to win over the heart of her new security deposit for her future.


	12. Caput Duodecimum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited by: cimbetau

Twelve days later Myrina found herself standing in one of the underground tunnels of The Royal Imperial Philathymnian Arena. One side of the grand stadium was carved into the cliffs that rose up from the northern sea, a few blocks away from the shore, the other side was designed as a freestanding structure made with white-stone bricks that connected to the cliff portion of the arena. It was quite a beautiful piece of architecture, which seemed almost spoiled with the foul scent of blood and perspiration that made the young woman's stomach churn the instant she entered.

"Next!" called a plump man sitting behind a table, in the dark passageway.

Myrina bit her lip nervously as she realised that her turn in the queue, for entering slaves into the preliminaries of Licentia Pugna, was nearly up. Her body was over taken in a sweat that she pleaded to only be from anxiety; hoping that her health remained true as it had those past few days of recovery. The girl didn't know if she was more afraid of the letter, that she toyed with in-hand, being accepted, or of it being rejected, by the man that sat a mere pace away from her.

Myrina had been haunted by nightmares that past week, of her fighting in Licentia Pugna. They were not of her dying, but of her killing. She was not thick, she knew this whole year through that if she were to ever make it into the arena, she would have to learn how to kill, or expect to be killed. However, it was not until now, that the abstract notion sunk in and became reality. She didn't know if she could do it. Take a man's life for only wanting his own in return. There was not a bone in her body that believed that her life was worthy of another's. The girl just kept rationalising it to herself that she would kill, not for herself, but for Pêrô and Nikolas, as well as for the very slave whose life she would take away in the arena. Myrina needed her freedom to fight for all the other slaves' freedom. So if she had to kill a few to save many, she would. Or at least that's what she told herself she would do. She still didn't know exactly how she would go about freeing everybody, however, she did know that she couldn't do it until she had first freed herself.

"Next!" Came the man again, this time he directed his holler towards Myrina. The brunette lifted her chin in false confidence; trying to appear as if she had every right in being there, and approached the man. Her nose unconsciously twitched when she smelled the arena-worker's abhorrent body odour. There were actual flies buzzing around his head that he paid naught heed to, probably because he was used to their constant presence. "Name?" the man with blackened gums and few teeth asked, without the slightest ambassadorial mannerism in his tone.

"Ah, Lady Myrina," she answered in an unnaturally high pitch; attempting to sound feminine and high-class, but after she spoke, she just felt ridiculous for sounding as such.

"Not your name, the name of your fighter." The man grumbled, not paying her any attention. His focus was too well spent on the itch between his legs that he had only just began to scratch at.

"Oh," Myrina's eye's widened, "right." The woman had thought about her arena name a few times, but could only justify taking her brother's and father's name. "Marcus," she said.

"No." was all the man said, stopping his busy hands on his crotch.

Myrina blinked in confusion, "I beg your pardon, but 'no' what?"

"Marcus is the alleged name of that fuckn' rebel leader. So no, ya can't use that name. Pick a different one."

"Oh…" the girl thought, "Nikolas," she said, thinking on how proud the old stable-hand would be to learn of his very own namesake fighting in his favourite arena.

"Alright," the man took up a quill and jotted down the name. Myrina's head cocked to the side as she tried to rationalise a story for the man. He looked as if he crawled out of a mausoleum himself after sojourning for a lifetime, yet he knew how to write. "And he is representing the house of…?"

"Antonis," she informed him.

The man looked up in shock, "No bloody way?" Myrina gulped, pleading to the gods that she would not be discovered. "That Sananis, soft-heart, healer? He's entering a fighter?"

"Yes," Myrina tensed her jaw. Her mind raced under his suspicious eye where she quickly decided to appeal to his manly instincts, even though it made her feel uncomfortable. "Even a loving healer will allow his living property to become harmed, when there is a young, tight, wet mount for him to ride. A mount who gets rather excited at the sight of blood and guts lying in the sand." She winked while handing him the forged letter that was in her hand. She could not believe what she had just said and did. She had heard the field-slaves back at the farm talk as such, and just regurgitated their disgusting words in a manner to suit her needs.

The repulsive man smiled at her words and took the letter; breaking the seal that she had stressed over for days, without so much as a glance towards it. He unfolded the parchment and gave it a quick read. The woman's breath caught in her throat, nervous that he would discover her falsehood. "Alright," he put the letter in a pile next to him; accepting it as truth. "Your fighter will be slotted for the third round today, first round begins at noon. Seven-against-seven. He can use any weapons. 'Cause it's preliminary, mercy can be shown, and if a Sponsor House claims anyone during the round, gong strikes once and they are out of the battle and cannot be touched by others… though, that rule's kinda in the grey, so if it's your fighter that is claimed, tell him to keep his head up just in case, or else it might get cut off before he exits the floor. At the end of the preliminaries all the Houses will choose a warrior if they have not already."

Myrina only nodded as the weight of her dreams came crashing down on her as unimaginably heavy reality. She turned and left the tunnel to exit the arena, cringing when she saw her poor girls standing outside with matching looks of panic on their faces, and a suit of armour and two swords, under a tarp in a small pull-cart.

"Miss," Aella practically cried out, "Why are we here with this suit of armour and weapons? I thought you were giving this to Antonis?"

"Aella!" Reah hissed at her with a jab to her side, "You cannot just blurt such questions out to a lady."

The blonde girl, in realisation of overstepping her place, shook her head in shame, "I'm so very sorry, Miss. Please forgive me."

"No, no, no, it's alright," Myrina waved her hands, dismissing the girl's questioning method. "It is I who should be begging for your forgiveness. I have not been completely honest with you two and I'm sorry. I must tell you something rather huge and I am hoping that you will both help me."

"It's our duty to help, Miss," Reah bowed her head.

"No, that is the source for concern. It is not your duty. I am as you two, I am also…" she quickly looked about her, making sure that no one was within close proximity to them; lowering her voice she continued, "I am also a slave."

"What?" both girls gawked in unison.

"Yes, yes, Antonis knows this already. He was trying to be kind by hiding my true identity. However, I wish to free myself. That is why I only just entered myself into the preliminaries."

"You what? Are you mad?" Aella spat out.

"Aella, seriously!" Reah snapped at her, yet again.

"What, we don't have to be polite or fake with her anymore, she is one of us." Aella turned to Myrina before crossing her arms, "Did you just treat us kindly and buy us things to win us over so that we would not squeal to Antonis about your true intentions?"

Myrina was offended by the question, "of course not. I was trying to be pleasant to a fellow woman of un-equal standings."

"Slaves, we're called slaves," Aella huffed at her word choice.

Myrina rolled her eyes before crossing her arms across her chest. "Aella, are you planning on disclosing me to Antonis for my activities here?" She asked her straight out.

The blonde looked to her, then to Reah, "He will punish us for knowing this and not informing him."

"But our loyalties lie with her," Reah gestured to Myrina.

"No they don't, slaves cannot be owned by other slaves."

"Please," Myrina interrupted, "I swear to you two now, that you will not be dragged into the blame. I will tell Antonis that I threatened you; promised you harm if you told him."

"And if you are dead?" Aella asked, "What then. How is a dead woman going to defend us?"

"I will write a letter then."

"A letter? That's not much insurance," the lanky girl shook her head.

Myrina took in a deep breath to collect her thoughts before speaking, "I have been training for the past year for this. I am quite good at combat. I believe that I may even win."

Reah studied her for a long moment before starting, "I just—" she began speaking while putting a hand to her face, "I just don't understand how you are going to…well, not die, because you are a woman. Are women even permitted to fight?"

"Well, they are not, not permitted to fight." Myrina scrunched her face as she acknowledged the legalities. "Though you will see by my first match this day, how well I can fight."

Neither woman spoke, they just stood there staring at her for a long while. It was finally Aella that sighed dramatically before saying, "So… your helmet will conceal your face, correct?"

"Yes!" Myrina's eyes lit up with hope.

"And you are certain that you can take down these mother fuckers?"

Myrina broke out into a laugh as she answered, "yes", loving the real Aella with dropped pleasantries that a slave is forced to demonstrate around citizens.

The blonde looked to Reah, "Should we let this little exsilio give it a go and help her?"

Reah looked to Myrina for a moment, studying her, before turning back to her companion, "If she wins, we will be the first armigers for a woman."

Both Myrina and Aella giggled to her response. "Reah," The blonde smiled, "We would be the first female armigers for any fighter, let alone a woman."

"We're going to be famous," the olive-skinned girl grinned.

"Either that or dead… or both!" Aella shrugged in good-humour. "We will help you," the blonde turned to Myrina, "as long as you win and don't die on us," she pointed a finger at her. "Oh, and if the rebels attack the arena while we are within it, you have to save us, even if you are in the middle of a duel."

"Deal," Myrina bit her lip to conceal a grin; ecstatic to have two people that knew her secret and were on her side and willing to help. She, truly believed that the girls would be trustworthy throughout her dangerous endeavours.

_______________________________________________________________~oOo~________________________________________________________________

Myrina stood awkwardly behind six other men who were equipped for battle, waiting inside a portal for their round to fight, which was next. They were concealed behind a grated iron door that led straight out to the arena. The second battle of the day was in commence right in front of them, only metal separated the blood, from the blood that had yet to spill.

Myrina was frozen stiff, eyes staring straight out to the men that were slashing each other to shreds. Her sight blurred looking through the slits of her helmet, as her breath grew heavier; chest pushing hard against the breastplate that was a little too small.

I can't do this, she thought. How could I go through with all this violence and killing? The unearthly stench of blood was so thick that she gagged; almost ripping off her helmet to breathe, but stopping herself when recalling her place. She then closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, as deep as her tight armour would allow her.

"…yeah that one der on da far right is Magister Kephas. I wanna be in his House. His fighter always wins," Myrina heard one of her fellow teammates say to another.

"Nah, his House-ludus is now in Mistress Helénē's House dis season. Word is that da bitch pinched him without Kephas known'," one of the men responded.

"I'm not gunna be trained by some cunt," the first one replied back, "I'd rather take my chances with a proven champion House."

"Even if the cunt is fuckn' hotter than Neveious's flamin' underworld?" another man chimed in, "'Cause shit that woman is fine!" he laughed where the others cheered in agreement.

"Not like she'd fuck any of us anyway," the first man huffed, "she doesn't mix fluids with slavery-slime like us. She's a purest fuck-cruncher."

"She'd fuck me! I'm finer than Amōs Himself," the same good-humoured man rooted; pounding at his shield with his sword, or rather, that's what it sounded like to the woman with her eyes still squeezed shut.

A new sense of curiosity hit her; seemingly calming her nerves enough to flutter her eyes open, wanting to see who they were talking about. The armoured-brunette took a couple steps closer to the gate and looked up to her left. There a low balcony lay, about one high, where a couple dozen citizen men stood, overlooking the fight. They all wore fine robes and had a rich, distinguished look about them. Myrina skimmed the Sponsor-House's overlook, stopping when the most remarkable sight she had ever seen, fell into focus. Myrina's heart leapt up, all the way to the back of her throat as she was forced to blink; making sure she was not imagining the woman, Mistress Helénē. The citizen woman wore the whitest stola that one could fathom which seemed to radiate its own light when the sun shone down on it. Her skin was not much darker than her clothing, where it too glistened. Opposite her pale skin, her hair was as dark as the night's sky which cascaded down the length of her back. Even from the far distance that Myrina stood away from her, she could make out the other woman's dark piercing eyes. The curly-haired brunette was convinced that the woman out in the arena was Callidora, the goddess of beauty, for that there was naught possible justification that a splendour such as hers, was not divine.

"Hey," a slave shoved Myrina back from the gate, "I'm gunna be the first one out there!" Myrina was about to snap at him, but then again realised her situation and bit her tongue.

A gong was then rung, signifying that a House had just picked a fighter. For some reason Myrina's heart jumped in nerves; scared that Mistress Helénē had chosen a fighter already and it was not her. A man in the arena called out the slave was picked and who their sponsor was, where Myrina sighed in relief when discovering that it was not for Mistress Helénē's House. Myrina quickly rationalised her anxiety as merely wanting to be in a good House, and so far what she had learned, the woman's ludus was one of the best.

"Looks like the battle is just about over, fellas," the same man that had just cheered at Mistress Helénē's beauty, rooted with excitement. "Ready to smite the other team and send Neveious a few guests?"

The men cheered and rallied with him, riling themselves up for the upcoming battle. Myrina did not feel their same excitements, however; holding back and ducking down whilst participating in her deep breathing exercises once again. She worked her fingers over the handles of her swords, not noticing that she had been gripping them tightly for the entirety of the time that she had been in the portal. Before she knew it the gong rang three consecutive times in announcing the battle's end where she slowly unsheathed her sicas.

Three slave-men quickly ran out to drag two fallen bodies out of the ring before their gate whooshed up and open, whilst the announcer hollered, "May the fight commence!"

There wasn't a fancy introduction or an instructed set of rules, only a shove out and a demand to battle each other. The six men ahead of her charged out in war cries, engaging with the opposite team straightaway. She heard the clanging of swords connecting savagely with shields, before she slowly walked out. Everyone was too engaged in battle that no one noticed her standing off to the side as she surveyed the field, seeing five men equipped with a sword and shield and two with hastas (short gabbing spears). She stood there for a while, feet frozen to the ground; realising that she could not make herself engage in a battle. She watched as her team took down two opponents, making it an uneven fight in their favour. However, with six of her team fighting five of theirs, she was even more likely to not get attacked by the opponent's side. If she did not fight then she would not prove herself and get into a house which would allow her the chance to win her freedom.

Myrina lifted her gaze, looking over the battle towards the sponsors. She saw the objective in sight, but why could she not engage? Thanos was right, she would never succeed because she could not fight offensively; she always waited to defend. Then something caught her eye, a man with a hood that concealed his face was walking swiftly through the stands, towards the balcony that housed the sponsors. Her eyes instinctually darted to his hand, discovering a reflective object in it, a blade she deduced. She knew of the rebel attacks and feared this to be another.

Without realising it, her feet had moved beneath her as she made haste across the arena to the side where the balcony lay. She was nearly at the other end when a spear came thrusting at her side, she quickly parried it with a down swing of her right sica and then bashed the man's jaw with the butt of her left sica, which was the only part of his face that was not protected by his helmet. The man stumbled; losing his balance where she took the moment to take only a few more steps as she threw down her sword that was wielded by her right hand, to free herself to draw her father's dagger from her side. The suspicious, hooded figure reached the end of a row of seats before he wall-kicked a supporting pillar; hurdling himself up to the ledge of the balcony where he grabbed it, and with one fell swoop he sprung up over the edge and lifted his blade; charging towards the sponsors whilst yelling, "liberatio—" The man didn't have time to finish his cry, nor his attack, for that the dagger that was only just in Myrina's hand, was now imbedded through the side of his throat.

The rebel slumped to the ground after turning his eyes to her. She stiffened her body, not truly comprehending what she had just done. She then noticed Mistress Helénē standing next to the fallen man, she looked towards her with a perplexed expression on her face before she squatted down to the fallen attacker on the ground.

Apparently the attack went on unnoticed by most of the sponsors as well as all of the fighters, for the next thing Myrina knew, that same Velites warrior jabbed his hasta into her shoulder causing her to cry out in pain. Luckily he had struck her in her armour, which stopped it from drawing blood. The woman still had only one sica in hand, so she quickly grabbed her one blade with both fists, before whipping around and striking her sword in a downwards motion; making contact with the man's spear before turning around full circle with a back kick to the head; knocking him down to the dirt. She then promptly took a hold of her discarded sica and placed them both to his neck; blades crossing one another.

"I yield!" spat the man, pleading for his life.

Myrina nodded and retracted her swords, but just as the fallen warrior was beggining to sit up, a sword came crashing down, beheading the man right in front of her eyes.

"What the—?" Myrina's head jerked up to find one of her teammates there with a freshly bloodied blade. The woman's nose flared as anger boiled up so fierce that nothing could stop it, "He yielded!" she screeched whilst body checking her teammate in fury. "Why would you kill him?" she demanded in sorrow.

"What the fuck?" he asked as he approached her, "Are you a woman?" he grabbed for her helmet where she quickly hit his hand away with her sword-clenched hand. He then laughed in amusement, "What the fuck?" he repeated before looking about the arena, finding that everyone was dead except for two other men who remained standing. "I think he's a she!" he grinned to their other teammates. The two others looked to each other curiously before they approached. "Take off your helmet," the same man demanded of her. Myrina backed away shaking her head in refusal. "Do it!" he ordered while running his bloodied blade through his fingers.

They were interrupted, however, by another gong strike where the announcer hollered, "Mistress Helénē has chosen the fighter from the house of Antonis!"

Myrina's heart fluttered, though she did not know to what exactly it was fluttering at; the fear of these three men approaching her, or the joy of the House that chose her, or even perhaps the anticipation of what would happen to her right then and there, once the arena commissioner and her new sponsor discovered her as female.

Myrina back stepped again, before turning in a haste to scurry over to the exit that was intended for the claimed fighters. Unfortunately her annoying harasser had called out to the commissioner who sat in his own box in the stands, close to the sponsors, yet even closer to the action, "That fighter is a woman! She can't be sponsored! She mustn't be allowed to fight!"

"Hold up!" the old commissioner's voice bellowed to the two men at the exit that Myrina had just intended to go through, "Do not let her pass."

"Shit," Myrina cursed under her breath, "Well I suppose this is it then. It all comes down to this," she muttered to herself. The woman looked to the closed gates before nodding and spinning around on her heels. There was no turning back now.

"Approach!" came simply from the commissioner. Myrina forgot to breathe as she made her way forward to the man adorned in expensive golden jewellery and silk robes. "This here idiot thinks you a woman," he pointed to the trying slave-man. "Remove your helmet to please the arena that you are not as he says, so that we may go forth with the next battle and you may join your sponsor house."

Myrina slowly sheathed her blades before reaching for her helmet. The amount of time it took for her hands to rise from her waist to her head seemed astronomically long, almost as if the hourglass of time had frozen mid-trickle. She squeezed her eyes tight; silently praying to the gods, not that she truly believed in them, pleading that they would find favour in her within that moment. She then flung her eyes open as she ripped off her helmet. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun that flopped over to the side of her head in a messy manner.

The young slave woman heard hundreds of shocked gasps simultaneously from the people that surrounded her in the stands. It was actually only until that point when Myrina truly realised the amount of people who were there in the arena; the amount of people who had their full attention on her. But with those gasps and the thought of the man that called her out for her gender, something burned in her gut. Yes she was a woman, and yes she could fight, and yes she would not allow a man to stop her from it. In response to her newly found passion she not only removed her helmet, but she raised her hand out to the side, dropping her piece of armour with purpose while locking eyes with the commissioner. She then grabbed a hold of her vambraces on her arms and ripped them off too; throwing them on the ground, before unfastening the straps of her breastplate before hoisting it over her head; dropping it to the pile with a clang. She stood strong in her tunic, blades, and greaves that were still around her legs; her full woman figure revealed for all to see. She kept eye contact with the commissioner as she took in a deep breath before bellowing in a strong, level tone, "I am a woman. The only idiots are those who cannot know one through actions; who can solely recognise one by face and form alone."

"You do not know your place, slave cunt!" the commissioner stood from his seat in great offence. "No woman is permitted to fight in my arena. I order you to be immediately executed for your crimes!"

Before Myrina could retort with the law, and what it had not said about female fighters, she was hushed by the crowd's loud booing towards his ruling of her. The woman was only just sentenced to death, but she found herself smiling towards the multitudes in the stands for the support that they were giving her as a woman in a man's world. Her eyes then fell to the sight of Mistress Helénē who had thrown her legs swiftly over the edge of her balcony and dropped down a full storey into the stands. She fell so gracefully that Myrina could have sworn a cloud had carried her to the lower level. Very delicately she passed through the stands packed with people until she reached the stairs that brought her down to where the commissioner stood.

The citizen woman entered the box, which Myrina was pretty certain that she was not allowed to do, and gently put her hand to the representative's shoulder where it slowly slid over to his far one; taking her other hand to his nearest arm; half enveloping him in a sensual hold. The woman smiled at him and spoke softly into his ear. Myrina could not hear what she was saying, but she knew it to be about her, despite the fact that the raven-haired mistress looked quite seductive as she murmured to the man, whilst running her finger along his gold chained necklace.

The man's attention was fully on Helénē as she spoke; only taking his eyes off of her to look at Myrina for a split moment. When he looked back to the mistress he nodded causing Helénē's face to break into a beautiful chuckle that lit up her enchanting eyes. She then sideways glanced towards Myrina with an approving smirk where she gave her a leisured blink to mimic a head nod, before turning to leave the commissioner's box.

"Slave of Antonis, you are free to go and join your House!" he bellowed out at her with a snarky tone. "Your death will be much more entertaining to me, as well as the others, in Licentia Pugna," he added in spite.

Myrina let out the breath of air that she had not realised that she had been holding, and burst into a giggle of relief, as the crowd cheered. She turned to the people and bowed her head in respect before scooping up her discarded armour and exiting through the, now opened gates, with an excitement that rode the cheers of the people, her people.


	13. Caput XIII

Myrina awkwardly hobbled through the long, dark passageway that exited the arena, with her armour nearly slipping out of her arms. The girl's eyes were not quite adjusted to dim tunnel, from only just being in the bright midday's sun.

Her spirits had fallen and her mind had numbed in the diminutive amount of time that had transpired since her bold armour-stripping scene, just moments prior. Her head should have been flooded with thoughts surrounding her quickly approaching future regarding her sponsor house, new doctoris, and Antonis's reaction towards her novel found killing-for-spot hobby. Yet, instead, her mind was found blank; she was so mentally absent that she barely noticed her metal breastplate, that was near to draw blood, as it chafed at her forearm.

"Here, ya little cunt bearing slave," a gruff male voice that sounded filled with anger, called out at her, sternly. Tracking to the stranger's vocal presence, she strained her eyes only to make out a large man's silhouette near the end of the long corridor. She timidly walked to his statuesque form, making out a brawny man who was nearly as dark as the charcoals one would see lying about in the bottom of a hearth. The whites of his eyes shone like pearls in contrast to the rest of his body and muted wardrobe. The man who looked around a decade older than she, glared her up and down with disgust clearly written in his face. "What, did a giant throw ya away 'cause ya were too skinny for his toothpick?" he snarled before he grabbed the fighting equipment she had in her arms; tossing it to the ground. "This here armour is shit!"

Half scared and half needing to defend herself, she started timidly, "I know, it was just that—"

"Shut up!" he snapped at her, "I didn't fucking say that cha could speak!" Myrina took a step back in fright towards his outburst. The man took in a deep breath before locking his gaze with hers. "I am Zenon," he announced as if he were a god himself, declaring his right in the world, "I am the most renowned doctoris in the Empire, as well as the past Empire and all those to follow after. A doctoris who is not going to allow, you," he jabbed his finger into her, still sore, shoulder; making her wince, " ya little cunt bearer, tarnish my divine reputation." The man locked his jaw and spun on his heals; walking towards the exit. "Take up your swords, leave everything else." He spoke without looking back. Myrina gulped before she complied, then chased after.

Outside the arena she was stopped by Zenon with a motion of his hand. There they stood near a large lot of parked carriages. Myrina had to bite her tongue due to the many questions, which she was not able to focus on before, came flooding into her thoughts. She desperately wished to learn of how Antonis and her new House mistress would both react in discovering her dishonest game. She was so nervous about it that she just wanted to blurt it out in a mad-woman's confession right then and there.

As if the gods had sought pity on her, Myrina's frazzled brain was then met with a calming wave in the form of a female's voice, bearing the smooth accent of the eastern islanders, "This may be the best counterfeit document I have laid eyes on, since my own statement-of-grades forgery, meant for my father, when I attended academy in my fifth year," The woman chuckled. Myrina's head whipped to the side, seeing Mistress Helénē holding up Myrina's faked permission letter from Antonis in her one hand, while bearing the most majestic smile with a twinkle in her eyes.

Myrina was taken by shock when seeing the other woman up close; she was even more beautiful when so near. However, that wasn't what was the most surprising to her; it was the citizen woman's age that baffled her. Helénē looked only a few years older than herself, which seemed unfathomable. How could she have archived such a successful sponsor house, not only as a woman, but at such a young one at that?

Helénē then flashed the slave-girl a mischievously impressed look after taking her eyes off of the parchment in her hand. However it seemed as if she were more enthralled with Myrina's brave actions driven by her bent morals, than her own actions, as a child deceiving her father with fake grades. "Let me assume this correctly," the beautiful citizen woman almost hummed as she spoke, "Your dominus hasn't the slightest notion of your presents in the here and now, dressed in a man's tunic and wielding the blades of a warrior?"

Myrina only nodded her head; finding it odd that she suddenly found herself without words in the presents of this other woman. Helénē then took in a deep breath through her nose while flattening down her gorgeous, pearl-white stola, then exhaling it out with a nonchalant, "righty-ho then." She then reached to her belt, pulling out Myrina's dagger; holding it out for her to take. The slave-woman sighed with relief in seeing her father's blade, safe and back within her presence. Timidly, she brought her hand to meet Helénē's offering. As she seized the handle, her fingers graced Helénē's which quickly brought her a strange, foreign feeling; producing an involuntary lopsided grin on the younger brunette's face. "My darling, what is your true name?" The other woman's dark orbs burned into her own olive ones.

"Oh, ah," she hesitated for a moment, almost speaking the name 'Sera', but then remembering that Antonis had made her take back her given name, "Myrina," she said so quietly she was not certain that the woman had heard her.

Helénē must have made out her response, for that she burst out with a chortle of glee and repeated, "Myrina! Yes," she nodded and said more to herself, "that is perfect," She then gave Myrina a once over before saying, "I shall go to your Antonis and make certain that he does not cut off the head of my champion, for your, oh so very rash, infidelities," she cocked an eyebrow and smirked towards her. "Were you accompanied by any others today? Perhaps an armigner that shall need to be fetched for you?" The woman asked.

"Yes, my girls..." Myrina then corrected herself, "or rather, Antonis's girls," The slave-woman found her vocabulary once again; knowing she had a responsibility to Aella and Reah. "Please," the brunette nearly begged as she rambled with purpose, "they must not be faulted for my disobedient actions. They had not known of my intentions until just this day. I coerced them into this. They are innocent. Antonis must believe this as truth! They mustn't be punished for my—"

"Hush, my darling," Helénē lifted her hand to silence her. "Worry not, for them. I shall make certain that they are found without fault in the matter, and send them to you now." Her sponsor smirked whilst twirling a piece of her long black hair in her one hand, "I can be very persuasive at getting people off..." She completed her sentence with a heated pause whist flashing a smile towards Myrina, "from blame." She threw the shiny lock of hair, that was previously tangled between her slim delicate fingers, over her shoulder before she turned to her house doctoris, "Zenon, take our Lunafleo to her new home," she ordered the surly man before walking away, a short distance, back to the arena where she stopped at the entranceway to chat with some other high-born looking citizens. Myrina's heart felt almost weightless in response to Helénē's nickname for her. It had seemed like an aeon since she was last called by an endearing name.

In a deliverance of cruel irony to sink her floating heart, Myrina soon felt a sharp pain in her chest; realising Zenon's finger gabbing at her, "Look here, cunt," he pressed his face nearly right up against her own, as he snarled, "You're not gonna bane my reputation. My fighters always make it to Laureola. Just so we got this understood," He jabbed her forcefully throughout his threat, "I will work ya so hard that ya will die, by my hand, in training, long before ya have the opportunity to die in Pugna."

Myrina gulped as she merely stared straight into the man's wild eyes, holding her breath, until he decided to remove his finger off of her, and turn to walk away. She took a gasp of air before she silently followed after, scared more of him, than she had been scared of her first arena fight that day.

"What have I gotten myself into here?" The girl muttered beneath her breath as she nursed her aching chest. She hoped that Helénē would step-in, if necessary, to keep her safe from Zenon's wrath. Though, the young woman recognised her place, and that she was their investment. As much as Helénē seemed pleasant to her just then, she had her livelihood resting on Myrina's shoulders. Also, by the sounds of what the other fighters were saying about her new sponsor, she cared more for her House and its victories, than she did any individual person, especially a lowly slave such as herself.

Aella and Reah were soon led, by an unknown man, to Myrina and Zenon, who were already at the carriage. The girl's guide bowed to Zenon before bustling away, back to the arena, like he were afraid of the doctoris too. "Get in!" Zenon barked towards the three of them, where a concerned looking Reah flashed an expression of terror towards the two other girls. Aella patted and rubbed her friend's back and guided her into the carriage before she turned to Myrina; taking her two swords and passing them to the, now seated, Reah. The blonde then looked to the curly-haired brunette, elbowed her with a smile, and whispered, "nice job in saving the damsel-Sponsor-House-bitch in distress," she winked in approval before mounting the vehicle ahead of her. Myrina followed after, feeling slightly perturbed towards the blonde's cruel definition of Helénē. She tried to shake off the feeling, knowing that Aella wasn't wrong, according to her Sponsor's reputation. Though, there was something eating away at the female-combatant as they rode off to their new residence. Helénē made her feel something so strange that it brought a knotted sensation to her stomach, and she despised it.


	14. Caput XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited by: Tatiana

Myrina, Reah, and Aella were brought to a large house, which was three storeys in height and surrounded by multiple smaller structures on its vast property. The land was atop a gravely high, steep cliff which scaled the ocean. The women even got a quick glimpse of what looked like the training field on the rear side of the main residence, as they rode up the drive. The land was at the opposite end of the city from Antonis's neighbourhood; housing all the highborn citizens with jobs in government.

The girls were escorted inside the largest building, then up one flight of stairs by a house maid, after Zenon abruptly strode away from them without a word. They were shown into a large apartment, with a giant, elevated bed in the centre of it. There were large windows that lined two walls, with one of them having a door that lead outside to a sizable balcony. Myrina's girls were then told to sit and rest at the edge of the room, near one of the great windows by the veranda.

"Let me see her," a tall man of fawn coloured skin whisked inside the room. He looked to be in his forties, and had slit, angular, dark eyes, and long cobalt hair that was fastened behind his back in a ponytail. The man stopped a few paces in front of Myrina and gasped with a smile and twinkling eyes. "By the Gods, are you not just a gorgeous specimen?"

"The whorehouse that bought me thought that same thing," Myrina stated cynically as she noted the rarity of the man's physical features. He looked as if he were a close descendant of someone who had hailed from the Far East, if he himself was not from there first-handed, though, he spoke very well and with a perfect Philathymnan accent.

"And I suppose you let them taste your blade for their shallow views on a transcendent beauty such as yours, that is made up of both power and elegance equally?" the man cocked an eyebrow with a smirk.

Myrina couldn't help but bite down a smile as she responded, "Nothing so dramatic, but I will say that you're certainly on the correct path."

"Yes, I am without surprise," he walked over to her. "I am Gen, your ambassador," he bowed his head as the girl's curiosities ran rampant, for that she could not tell if he were a citizen himself. The fact that he looked foreign made her think otherwise, yet she could not be certain.

"My ambassador?" Myrina scrunched her face in confusion.

"Yes," He gently lifted her elbow to observe the cuts and bruising on her shoulder, looking upon them with a sympathetic and sour face, before unhanding her and continuing, "Being a Pugna Warrior is not only just fighting and killing. It is diplomacy and parties, making the aristocrats fall in love with you so that they place their bets on your blade, and not the others'."

"Wow, it's all just a big game," she muttered.

"Yes, in and out of the arena."

Anxiety then struck her hard as she realised the weight that was on her shoulders. It was no longer about her survival in the arena, and her promise to purchase Pêrô and Nikolas from her former Dominus, Elioud. It was now her responsibility to succeed for her House, and her potential investors as well.

"I see that concern in your eyes," Gen spoke kindly to her, "but worry not, I know you will shine like the gem of Callidora, and win the hearts of these rich bastards. As well as slay your enemies in the arena and win your freedom."

"You seem rather confident in a girl you have only just met," she eyed him skeptically.

"I was at the arena this afternoon. Zenon may have his sandal thongs in a knot over our Mistress's choice of you, but I am ecstatic about it. You were truly remarkable this day."

The girl bared wide eyes as she said with sureness, "I am fairly certain that Zenon is going to kill me before I have the chance to step into the arena once again."

"He is tough," Gen nodded his head, "However, I think you are just as tough. You stared your own execution in the face this day and said 'no' to it, which yielded with your life intact; standing in front of me now with breath still in your lungs. You will be fine, just keep your wits about you, it's all I can and need to say to you on the matter." Myrina gulped and nodded. She was about to bring up Mistress Helénē and how she played a crucial part in keeping her alive, yet didn't have the chance before Gen had added. "Nevertheless, enough of this sour topic. This eve is for celebration. This eve is your coming out party."

"My what?"

"The party to show off the House's champion. You will be the guest of honour."

"I will?" Myrina's eyes glassed over in unbelief.

"Yes, Yes," he clapped his hands; on prompt, a queue of a dozen women with garments, buckets of water, makeup, bottles of oil, and more, trailed into the room. "You are going to be preened and polished for this evening," he smiled at her. "Have fun and I shall come to check on you in a bit."

"Is Antonis going to be at the party?" Myrina called after him as he had turned to leave.

He spun on his heels, facing her once again, "Who?"

"Antonis, my dominus."

"Oh, yes, of course. Mistress Helénē has gone to fetch him, I do believe."

"I would like to speak with him beforehand. If that's permitted." Myrina wished to smooth things over with him so desperately; not wanting him to be crossed with her, especially after all the good he had already done for her.

The man bowed his head in understanding, "Yes, certainly. I will personally see to it that he comes straight up to see you when he arrives."

"Thank you, Gen," Myrina smiled genuinely towards the man whom she had quickly grown to like and appreciate, before he bowed to her and exited the room.

Aella and Reah remained at the window as the mass of beauticians attended to Myrina, which, once again, made her feel awkward as others waited upon her hand-and-foot. She was bathed with beautifully scented almond oils and her hair was washed in coconut butter. She had the most unpleasant experience, though, as the women insisted that she be sugar-waxed everywhere from the neck down. One of the girls even took a long thread to her face and cleaned up her eyebrows by getting rid of unwanted facial hair, painfully pulling them out from their roots.

Later, looking down, Myrina frowned at her nude, pre-adolescent looking pubic area, finding it odd that they deemed it necessary for that amount of hair to be removed. She wasn't planning on showing that much to her opponents in the arena as she battled them to the death. However, the young woman did smile at the feeling of her smooth legs as she rubbed them together. She never had the privilege of soft legs as a slave-girl.

Her long hair was then styled down, with her curls in perfect ringlets without a touch of frizz in sight. A light lavender-coloured, shimmering creamy makeup was applied onto her eyelids, and her full lips were stained red to complete her look.

Myrina was then presented with the most beautiful stola she had ever laid eyes on. It came across one shoulder, with a golden pendant that had emeralds embedded into it, which was fastened around the single, draped over, strap. The dress's length itself fell just above the floor, where it wisped and swept the tiles beneath it. However, what really made it a chef-d'oeuvre was the fact that the cotton was a deep satin red. Myrina's mind boggled as she tried to comprehend the cost of staining the dress in such a colour. The room fell silent as the stola was gently placed over the warrior's head, and pulled down to cover her body. It fit her perfectly, hugging her hips, and supporting her breasts as if the garment had been tailored just for her.

Gold coloured sandals, with matching emeralds on them, were then slipped onto her feet just as Antonis and Gen came walking into the room. Both men stopped in their tracks as they gawked at Myrina. The girl squirmed under their gazes, not knowing how she looked and only thinking the worst by their dumbfounded expression.

Antonis stuttered as he broke the silence, "Myrina, you, ah… you—"

"I know!" Myrina blurted, "I went behind your back, and I truly am sorry for it, but you must know that I had to. I couldn't live a lie anymore, and—"

"Myrina!" her dominus interrupted her with a warm smile. "Firstly, I was going to tell you that you look absolutely divine. Secondly, I know, and I am sorry. I should have listened to you. I only negated this whole Pugna charade for the reason that I did not want to see you hurt. I may not like you risking your life, and I may not support it, but I will not punish you for taking your life into your own hands. I was the one who wanted you to live as a citizen in the first place; making your own decisions is part of that."

Myrina was truly thankful for Antonis's reaction. He did not support her, yes, but in the least, he was alright with her taking charge of her life. "I am sorry as well," Myrina met his gaze, "I did not enjoy the act of sneaking about behind your back." He only nodded his head in understanding.

"Well, Doctor," Gen looked to Antonis, "shall I have someone take you to your chambers so that you may familiarise yourself with them? As is custom, during Pugna, the warrior's Dominus is a welcomed guest in the sponsor house, unless you wish to reside in your own home, of course."

Antonis took his time tearing his eyes away from the sight of Myrina before he looked to her ambassador, "Yes. Thank you. I do wish to stay for the time being. To make certain that Myrina is being taken care of," he smiled, yet still had a cautious eye on Gen while the man signalled for someone from Myrina's beauty squad to come over to them and lead the citizen man out of the room. "And for these two," Gen pointed towards Aella and Reah before Antonis had left, "would you like them sent back to your home, or would you rather they continue accompanying Myrina here?"

Antonis looked to the gorgeously made over brunette and said, "It is up to you."

"Yes, I would like them here with me," she then looked to her girls, where they both nodded in agreement with her choice, which made her smile, knowing that she had a friend in both of them.

"Very well," Gen said as Antonis was lead out of the apartment to be shown his own. "As for the rest of you," he spoke to the house's girls,"could you take Antonis's two girls and find them a room in the maid's chambers?"

"Can they not just stay with me?" Myrina asked, not wanting to be alone and separated from the familiarity of the two young women.

"No, sorry my lovely. Mistress Helénē would never allow her champion to share sleeping accommodations. You are more important than royalty right now, Myrina, you must understand that these are your chambers alone, the chambers that are given each year to the House's sole Pugna warrior." The curly haired brunette nodded, barely comprehending the notion of her high position in this big game that she found herself at the centre of.

Myrina wordlessly walked towards her girls before they left, and kissed them farewell on the cheek. "You look beautiful," Reah whispered to her.

"Yeah, you've given me a stiff wood under my stola here," Aella winked at her in good fun. Myrina smiled lopsidedly at her comment with a giggle as she watched the two leave.

Gen then approached her and took her hands into his own and cocked his head to the side with a grin, "you, my lovely, are truly making the gods envious with your inhuman beauty," he squeezed her hands gently. The man then dropped one to lead her to the other side of the room, where there hung a large reflective metal décor on the wall, which mirrored images quite clearly. "You must see yourself," he stopped her in front of her reflection, where the girl gasped in disbelief towards her appearance.

She barely recognised herself and it took her aback, but after a quick moment she smiled when realisation sunk that the stunning woman staring back at her was her. She really did look good. For the first time since her separation with her blood-relatives when she was young, Myrina felt feminine and beautiful.

"You are going to knock them all dead this night," Gen winked at her.

Myrina then turned to him and asked, "What am I supposed to do and say at the party?"

"Speak only when spoken to. You may be the guest of honour, however, that does not omit the fact that you are still a slave." Myrina nodded in understanding, "Though, you are free to eat, drink, and join in any of the festivities, just do not be the one to initiate the activities."

Myrina scrunched her face in confusion, "So, I must follow others' actions and authorisations while giving the illusion of not following others' actions and authorisations?"

"Precisely," he smiled in understanding of the irony of it all. "Remember, it is all simply one big game."

She sighed and nodded, muttering to herself, repeating the man's words to herself, "it is all simply one big game."

He squeezed her shoulder and locked gazes with her, "You will fair just fine." He then patted her forearms before physically disengaging from her, "I will send up a little snack for you to tie you over until the party, which already has guests arriving. The fat little aristocrats have been waiting for this gluttony-struck party all year long, and do not wish to wait for the falling sun to start in the festivities. I will come get you in an hour's time. You will make a great entrance and meet Mistress Helénē, where she will then introduce you to the masses."

"Understood," said the girl, with an odd twinge of excitement towards seeing her house mistress once again, even if the feeling was hidden under an allotment of nerves.

The man gave her a solid nod before leaving her in her room, all alone, with only her anxieties and racing thoughts of the upcoming event to keep her company.


	15. Caput XV

Myrina stood at the top of a grand stairway, just out of sight of the party below. Gen, who was at her side, had told her to wait behind the corner until his say so. There was a great bustling from the party mixed with laughter and chatter that made the girl's ears ring, even from outside the hall. A booming gong then rang, cutting through the room like a knife. Its commanding effect was quick to stifle the ruckus from the guests.

A dominant voice then filled the empty void of the newly hushed room, "Ladies, Gentlemen, and those who fall somewhere in-between," Myrina recognised Helénē's voice emanating loudly and firmly from down below, within the mitts of the gathering-hall. "I welcome you to the finest sponsor house in all of Philathymna, as we celebrate a new year of Licentia Pugna." The room cheered in drunken whoops. "I would like to thank our regular sponsors, as well as any newly interested that are present for the first time, here this day, to meet our house's champion. You all posses more ferocitas than the lot of cowards that were too afraid to show their impious faces here, once they had caught word that our warrior is a lot prettier than they had first expected," the crowd pounded at their chests and roared in a common societal display that represented strength and boldness. Myrina found it quite intriguing how the woman could manipulate the room with their own pride. "And for those of you who just came for the food," The Mistress paused for a moment; Myrina imagining the woman eyeing her guests, "that's alright because this food came from House Laurus." The visitants burst out into laughter at this news, with the slave-warrior lost in its humour; looking for an explanation from Gen. The man just shook his head and waved it off with an eye-roll, as to say to her that it wasn't important. "We are making history this day." Helénē continued after the people quieted down. "We are not only the house of the first female pugna warrior, but we are soon going to become the house to hold the first female pugna winner!" Myrina poked her head out from around the corner only to be tugged back gently by Gen, "A winner that will ride on your endorsements, increasing their value in full, while entering into Laureola battle to victoriously obtain the purse!" The whole crowd uproar; rooting and clapping. "Well," Helénē waited for the room to settle down enough for her words to be heard, "without any further ado, allow me to present to you our champion," Gen lightly pushed Myrina out and whispered for her to go, "Myrina The Prima Puella".

The young warrior stood at the top of the stairs as she was instructed prior to do so by Gen. The room was packed with people. Some were gorging themselves with food and beverage, others were lazing around naked, clearly from engaging in sexual intercourse just moments prior. Myrina noticed that there were sex slaves present. They were all marked with leather collars around their necks and gold paint over the entirety of their bodies. The room's cheers were thunderous as all eyes were on her. However, the noise was very quick to die down after they all took a good, hard look at her. The guests faces gawked and stared at her, which made the girl swallow hard in discomfort.

"Go down to the mistress," Gen spoke quietly from a pace behind her.

Myrina stiffly nodded and slowly worked her way down the stairs. Hushed murmurs emanated from the peoples as all eyes tracked her movements to the lady of the house. "That's her? How is a doll-face like that going to kill anything but an ant in her broth?" she heard one lady mutter quietly as she passed by.

A man to her other side spoke in a drunken slur, quite a bit louder, "I just wanna fuck her brains out before she dies at her first fight. I don't even give a fuck that she's a slave. I fuckn' fuck slaves. It's no big thing."

The brunette looked to the intoxicated man that was laying nude on a large cushion with an also nude, marked female sex-slave, who had her leg wrapped around his body. As much as Myrina despised citizens who thought themselves so high and mighty as to never sleep with an unworthy slave, at that moment she wished that that particular man had that bigoted belief as well, just so she would not have to be subjected to his harassing comment.

"Hold your foul tongue, Lamech," Helénē snapped at the naked man, "this is not one of your dirty slave whores you're discoursing about." Her eyes were sharp and her voice was steady as she moved her body to face towards his direction, "You will not speak to my champion as such. If you don't watch your tongue I'll make certain that the next dirty cunt that you slip your deformed cock into, is plague-ridden with puss filled warts that infect your precious manhood to the point that it falls off."

The room then broke its silence as it cheered and laughed. "All hail, the hard-ass, Helénē! Mistress to the most powerful house and champion in all the lands!" a young, handsome man raised his glass as he eyed the raven-haired woman with a cheeky smile. The woman returned the smile and rolled her eyes at him; making it clear to Myrina that they must have been familiars.

"Laudate! Laudate!" The people cheered towards her before going back to the festivities. Myrina was shocked at how brief the crowd payed attention to her. She couldn't tell if it was due to her displeasing them, or if this was just the way of a champion's coming out celebration.

Myrina was only a few paces away from Helénē before the citizen woman looked to her with a chuckle and took a couple steps towards her; reaching out to take Myrina's hand and pull her over close to her; linking their arms together.

Helénē rested her chin on top of Myrina's shoulder, which was the perfect height for the task, for that Myrina was slightly taller than the House Mistress. Helénē then whispered into her ear, "Well, my lunafleo, I knew that you were beautiful from this mid-day's match, but by the gods, wash your hair and put on a nice stola, and you're questioning all my guests' sanity in investing in a stunningly delicate artist's muse."

A tingle ran up Myrina's spine as her cheeks warmed to the complement. Her nerves from earlier felt as if they had both disappeared and intensified in response to the words and touch of this other woman.

"I too was at this mid-day's match, and awe struck with that blade to that rebel's neck," the man that Myrina had assumed to be Helénē's familiar approached them, "I mean, I was a little disappointed that our dear Helénē here did not meet her end. I was so looking forward towards gaining this house in her demise." He winked at her with a smile, "Two Houses are are better than one!"

Helénē chuckled, "Myrina, darling, this is Laurus, he is my delusional neck pain with a mouth who believes that he's my inheritance recipient."

The slave girl, without thinking, blurted out, "Neck Pain With a Mouth, it is so very nice to meet your acquaintance," she curtsied, hoping to the gods that she had not stepped way over the line of appropriacy, or arguably worse, been thought a loser with a bad sense of humour.

Fortunately, Laurus and Helénē both burst out laughing in response. "Oh, I do like her," the handsome man hummed. "She is nothing like the block headed oafs we both have each year." He then looked directly to Myrina before saying in an offhanded demeanor, "I am truly going to be saddened when you fall in battle, and it will not be just because of the money that our dear Helénē is going to lose," he light heartedly bumped at the citizen woman's shoulder.

Helénē then playfully smacked his hand away, "you are always on about my money and how much of it you can leech off of me, dead or alive."

"Ah well," he grinned, "at lease this year I might actually invest more into my own House Champion than yours!"

Myrina stiffened her back. She was indeed repulsed by his assumption that she would be killed in the ring. However, a greater distaste came from Helénē's response, or rather, lack of response towards his shortage of faith in her. Her House owner had defended her just moments ago in front of the masses, but now she excuses the comment. That was probably it though. Helénē was showing her power and ownership over her before, but now, she was with close company, and she could lay away her façade and be her true self. A self that made a living off of manipulating people into investing into her product. Which, in this case, was Myrina herself.

Myrina grinded her teeth, as she unhooked her arm out of Helénē's grasp. Helénē seemed startled as she looked to Myrina in response towards her assertive action. "As a fleeting glow of a flame about to be snuffed out by my ever shortening wick," Myrina almost growled, "shall I go walk the room and shine whilst I still am able, and secure all the moneys in which you two wish to acquire before I am dead on the arena ground?"

Both Laurus and Helénē gawked at her nerve. Myrina herself knew that she had gone too far, but she couldn't help it. Even when she was a slave back on Elioud's farm, she had been treated with more respect; she was treated as a human being, not a latrunculi game piece.

Helénē narrowed her eyes at her, but before she could get a word out another guest had walked up towards them. "Helénē, by the gods I am putting everything into your House this year," an older man with spilled wine all over his toga approached them. "My favourite kept-woman liked the way your girl back kicked that other guy in the face. I mean, I'm normally not one to put any money on a woman unless I'm paying her to take the deposit of my credentials through her rear entrance, though…" he thought for a moment, "I do reckon that in a roundabout way, I'll be getting just that from my strumpet," he hollered with laughter.

"The world has restored its balance," Helénē smiled tightly, as she seemed to have forced a pleasant expression for the donor. "We are glad that you have decided to invest with our House and its champion."

The man grinned at them before practically tackling a tray full of food that passed by. He then proceeded to follow the moving sustenance towards a buffet table.

"Hey," Laurus seemed desperate to get far away from Helénē and Myrina's heated exchange. "Wait up! You may want to invest in my champion too!" The other House owner followed quickly after the drunk man.

"Well apparently your fleeting glow is reading as backdoor knocking," Helénē said sharply towards Myrina in a low voice.

"At least he's dropping his entire purse on the doorstep beforehand. I say my glow- whatever it may be- is doing you just fine," Myrina murmured back in a similar tone.

"Don't sell your grain before the harvest, it's only been one man's purse."

"I do apologise, my mistress, but are you not the one who picked me as your house champion only after a brief demonstration in the stadium?" Myrina tried to soften her tone in attempts of cushioning her words. "Isn't the point of this whole 'meet-and-mingle charade' for me to work the fields in attempts of yielding the grain that you already sold?"

Helénē chuckled as if she were entertained by her words. "I assure you, darling, you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she locked eyes with her and held her gaze. Myrina's heart started to pound. The young slave had no idea in why she couldn't stop herself from acting in such a stubborn way. She knew it not to be the first time that she'd blurted out of turn. She had done that with Antonis, and now with Helénē. The only difference, however, was that Antonis encouraged her free expression, where Helénē didn't seem as supportive.

Then another trial of thought crossed Myrina's mind. The champion cocked her head slightly without breaking their intense stare down; questioning, "I'm just a political move to you, aren't I?"

Helénē shook her head as if she were taken aback, "what?"

"You don't actually think that I will prevail in the arena. You chose me quickly. Too quickly." Myrina squinted her eyes towards her in deep contemplation, "No, you chose me for another reason, but I can't figure what that reason is."

"You assume too much," Helénē said almost offhandedly before taking her eyes off the woman; quickly looking to the crowd. "Now, enough with your prohibited mouth, and let us proceed in this charade of meet-and-mingle, as you so eloquently put it." She then sternly linked her arm with Myrina's once again, but this time with a lot more power and authority, before she dragged her on.

"A temple of Sanitas healer! That's whose slave your champion is from?" a man yelled out, coming towards them with a woman in linked arms.

The newly presented woman then said, "Yes, we bumped into Antonis and he'd said she," the guest gestured towards Myrina, "was from his house."

"A healer having a little lady killer slave," the man laughed along with the woman, "you've clearly gone barking mad, woman," he said condescending towards the House Mistress. "A girl with a little grace, does not a warrior make."

Myrina could feel Helénē stiffen her back before letting go of her. "really?" the woman hummed with a smile before snatching an empty metal tray out of a passing by slave's hand. She then popped the tray onto her middle finger, spinning it on its edge. " I always saw it as, grace," Then like a magnet, she somehow maneuvered the tray to roll down her arm, across her chest and onto her other arm, catching it with her opposite hand, "is exactly…" she then spun around in a pirouette, whipping the tray about quickly in her spin; slicing it towards the man's neck, "what a warrior make."

The man jumped back suddenly with gaping eyes, "You are mad!" His female companion looked just as shocked, as she too then distanced herself a little from them.

Myrina was also surprised, though, what had truly intrigued her was the sight of a slight cut left on the man's throat. He didn't even seem to notice it, it was such a small clean abrasion that had only produce a slight redness. Helénē had become an even bigger mystery to Myrina, and the slave girl was quickly becoming famished in all the questions in which she did not have the answers to in regards to this other woman.

"No, you are the one who is mad. Mad to come into my home and insult me in such a manner. I urge you to leave my premises before I lay down all my many robust assets on your tactless arses," Helénē's words were pointed as she raised an eyebrow at them.

"You pornai scum! Everyone knows you literally fucked your streched out cunt's way into this House," The man drew his side dagger and held it out by his thigh. "You have no power over me…"

Before Myrina realised what she was doing, she stepped in front of the man, grabbed the front of his toga at the neck, pushed him back, and with a whiplash thrust, pulled him back forwards towards her, with her head tucked; headbutting the bottom of his chin with her crown. The man then slumped to the ground, knocked unconscious.

"What did you do?" the woman who was accompanying the, now unresponsive, man, gasped as she fell to her knees; checking to see if he was alright.

"My robust asset laid down my decree," Helénē took her focus off the couple before signaling for a few browney slave men to deal with the two. which they were quick to swoop in, one leading the woman with a stern hand on her back, while another hoisted the man over his shoulder; leaving the hall.

The crowd chanted as they saw the two being taken out, "Eiciens purgamentum!" "Eiciens purgamentum!" which Myrina could easily translate to mean, 'taking out the garbage'. The slave girl assumed that violent occurrences such as these had happened often enough, in order for there to be a socially acceptable protocol, and nonchalant demeanor towards what had just taken place.

"Saving my neck again," Helénē said to her as if she were proving some sort of point.

"You say that as if you needed the saving." Myrina smirked at her, genuinely impressed by her.

"Myrina!" Antonis rushed over. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"If you act like this in response to a minor incident, how are you going to fair with her fighting to the death?" Helénē asked him in a patronising tone.

"Excuse me, Mistress, but not all of us are enthralled with death, as your profession seems to be hinged upon."

"Without death, you would be without a profession just as I."

"Yes, however, I do not promote an early demise."

"No, you draw it out. allowing it to fade away to nothingness. No dignity in that. I, however, promote honour and strength before death."

"Honour?" Antonis raised his voice. Myrina quickly took her doctoris's hand, hoping that he would get the message, and snap out of his seemingly approaching downward spiral of anger. He then looked to her, where she pleaded for him to lay-off with a glance. He then gently squeezed her hand and nodded in cooperation.

Antonis sighed before shifting his attention back to Helénē, "I apologise. I suppose that I am allowing my worry for Myrina's well being, rattle me."

Helénē bowed her head, "I understand. It's difficult to see an asset in circumstances like these. At such high risk of being taken away from you, as well as in such a gruesome manner furthermore." The woman spoke calmly, as if she'd been reciting a script that she'd spouted out to others before. "As a healer, this must be especially difficult for you. I can empathise with that."

"I thank you for your understanding," The physician sounded to be genuine in response. Myrina, however, was a lot more sceptical towards the mistress's words and presented compassion.

For the rest of the evening, Helénē paraded Myrina off to her many guests. Most whom were highly intoxicated and much too loud for the slave girl's comfort. Myrina zoned out as the time dragged on; being overwhelmed with sensory input from the festivities around her. She stayed quiet; allowing Helénē to talk with her silver tongue, enticing guests to become sponsors. Myrina stopped caring about what was going on around her, she just longed for her bed. Finally at some ungodsly hour in the evening, Gen came to retire her for the night. The girl could have kissed him when he arrived to collect her, but she managed to keep her joy at bay.

"You have an early morning tomorrow," Gen took her gently by the arm as he escorted her up the stairs to her room. The man had a soothing nature that reminded her of her brother, when he had carried her to bed as a child. The two sibling would often lounge out on their family-home veranda on hot summer nights. Myrina, the younger, was always the quicker to tire which led to Marcus taking her, in a half-awake state, to bed. "Your first training session will begin at first light," Gen let her know as he passed her off to Reah and Aella in her chambers.

Myrina moaned at the thought of having to deal with her new doctoris. A man that wished to personally be responsible for her demise on his own training field. Regardless of her lack of enthusiasm for the following day, she still found sleep quite quickly after her head found the pillow that night. One day at a time, was a motto that she was quickly adopting in her newly found life situation. She'd deal with Zenon tomorrow. Tomorrow was not today.


End file.
